Fifty Million
by Jasmine2009
Summary: Tony comes under the suspicions of NCIS Director and then is not allowed to participate in the clearing of his name.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Fifty Million  
Author: Jasmine  
Universe: NCIS, Season 6  
Date: January 1, 2011  
Rated: PG  
Disclaimer: I make zero money on these stories. I only write for my own personal enjoyment and hope that others find my stories worthy of their time.  
Summary: Tony comes under the suspicions of NCIS Director Vance and then is prevented from participating in the clearing of his name.

Chapter 1

Tony looked up from his desk. It was 7:30 on a Tuesday night and Ziva was still here. Not terribly unusual, but not exactly normal either, especially since they weren't working any active cases at the moment. And for some reason, she didn't seem like herself, but it was nothing that he could put his finger on. He looked sideways at McGee, who was busy clicking away on his keyboard and looking overly busy on this not-very-busy day. But leaving the office before McGee wasn't that unusual either. The computer geek would often stay later than everyone else just so he could walk out with Abby, but he hadn't done that in a while. Looking over at Gibbs, he could see that he was busy reading a report, one of the many that crossed his desk in the course of a day. Each one of them was busy, but not doing anything that warranted a late night at the office. Something didn't seem right and he unconsciously scratched his head.

"Ziva, why are you here?"

"Because I work here," she replied, without even raising her eyes.

"Aren't you working a little later than normal?"

"No," she replied. "But you are."

"I'm finishing this report that—"

"—was due yesterday," Gibbs said, admonishing him in his own way.

"And I'm done!" Tony slapped the folder shut and walked it across the floor and set it on his boss' desk. Then he didn't know what to do with himself.

Gibbs looked up and waited.

"It's good, Boss. I checked it a couple of times."

"I'm sure it is."

Fidgeting a bit longer, he finally decided that if they wanted to work late, it was their loss. "Well, I'm hitting the road. Hot date tonight." He pulled his jacket off the back of his chair, clipped his gun to his belt and stashed his belongings into his backpack.

"Ziva, you wanna get a bite to eat?" came out of his mouth before he had time to think about it.

"What about your date?"

"That's not til later."

"No thanks. I have some work I want to finish."

Now he knew something was amiss; she was just too cool with her answer.

"McGeek! How 'bout you?"

"No thanks, Tony. I'm waiting for Abby."

That was a crock of bull, he thought. But if they wanted to play whatever game they were playing, he'd buy into it… for now.

Tim looked up and watched Tony as he headed towards the elevator and disappeared. When the doors closed, he noticeably exhaled. "I don't like lying to him. I felt like he could see right through me."

"Yeah, well, McGee," Gibbs said, "he probably could." At least that's what his gut was telling him. The marine in him was willing him to tackle the issue head-on. Thank goodness he listened to his gut.

"He does not suspect anything, McGee. He is hungry and when Tony gets hungry, he does not notice anything else," Ziva assured him.

"Is he gone?" The three looked up to see Director Vance leaning on the railing peering down. His demeanor was relaxed, interesting given the circumstances. Ziva and Tim followed Gibbs up the steps and into the restricted MTAC room. Already seated were Ducky, Abby and Palmer, Gibbs' entire team was present, except for one member, and his absence was felt by all.

"What's going on?" Abby asked.

"I don't know," Gibbs honestly replied, turning towards the Director expectantly.

Vance motioned to the technician who pulled off his headphones and left the room. Another tick of his head sent McGee to the console. Vance methodically unfolded a piece of paper he'd pulled from his inside breast pocket and handed it him, "Follow the directions on this and bring up these account."

McGee punched some keys and within seconds, bank statements appeared on the screen.

Vance turned his attention to the people and asked, "Has anyone noticed anything unusual about Special Agent DiNozzo's behavior lately?"

"Like what?" Ziva asked.

"Anything out of character."

"Tony's always a little 'out of character'," Ziva said, not realizing her comments elicited chuckles from her colleagues. Abby caught the director's stern look and when he wasn't smiling with the rest of them, she slunk down into her chair and shook her head, "Sorry. I've not noticed anything."

"Has he bought anything recently that might be out of his price range?" Vance asked.

They stared at him like he'd grown a third eye. Collectively, they shook their heads.

"What's this about?" Gibbs asked, annoyance barely keeping its ugly head hidden.

Vance looked at McGee and said, "Bring up DiNozzo's New York account."

McGee hesitated, realizing what he was doing, "These are Tony's bank accounts?"

Vance glared at the agent, offering him but a single nod.

McGee shot Gibbs a look, wanting some sort of direction, but when he got nothing, he turned back around and reluctantly did as he was told. As the numbers skittered across the screen, Vance studied the members of Gibbs' team as they eyed the account. Palmer voiced what everyone was thinking, "Holy cow! Is that number for real?" Thinking better of the outburst, he composed himself and restated, "Is that how much money Tony has in the bank?"

Vance nodded, "According to his account, it is."

Gibbs tilted his head as he viewed the number on the screen: $51,239,643.71

"Where'd he get that kind of money?" McGee asked.

"That's what I want to know," Vance said.

*******************************8

Tony got almost to his car before his curiosity got the better of him. He thought about calling Ziva, but if she answered, she wouldn't say anything. Gibbs too would be tight lipped. McGee was his best bet. Yep, if he wanted to find out what was going on, he could definitely rely on the computer geek to spill it. He had to use the head anyways, so he had a good reason to go back inside. To think that his colleagues were trying to hide something from him almost made him laugh out loud. Like they thought they could. He smiled, turned on his heels and walked back towards the building.

*******************************8

They studied the figures on the screen before Abby's discontent got the better of her and, ever cynical of Big Brother's existence, she asked, "How do you even know about his bank account?"

"That's my job, Ms. Scuito. I'm paid to know who my agents are and what makes them tick, or mal-function. " The director leaned in front of McGee and tapped several keys. A video started running, "Once I learned of this, I began recording Agent DiNozzo's whereabouts, looking for anything suspicious." A streaming video of Tony dated five days ago began playing, with some segments appearing clear while others grainy. They watched Tony getting in and out of his car, arriving to and from work, and entering and exiting the building. They watched him checking out women on the sidewalk, joking with security at the main entrance, and getting lunch at the kiosk on the street. They watched Tony having conversations with other agents, getting coffee, and carrying evidence to the evidence locker.

It made them feel dirty.

"What's going on here?"

The room collectively gasped as heads whipped around at the sound of the familiar voice. Abby was closest to him and she could see the look of betrayal displayed across his face. Gibbs felt the glare of his agent's blue eyes. Since this was the Director's show, he'd let his boss take that question.

Vance pressed a button and froze the video, "Special Agent DiNozzo, I'm glad you're here. I have a few questions for you."

"Probably not as many as I have for you."

Gibbs smiled. It was always a pleasure watching someone other than himself in action.

Tony looked around slowly, beginning with his teammates and ending with the larger than life image of himself on the screen. He noted the lack of eye contact and said, "I ask again: What is going on?"

Vance said, "It appears you've come into some money recently."

"I have?"

Vance threw a glance at McGee but he was more than just a little hesitant to move. Realizing the loyalty, Vance leaned over the keyboard and punched several keys. Before long, the figures were back up on the screen. Highlighted and blinking was the grand total of fifty million dollars. "Is this your account?"

It only took Tony a few seconds to scan it for accuracy, and when he'd finished, he was at a loss for words. "Yeah, that's my account, but—"

"Care to explain where you got this kind of money?"

He had no idea where it came from, but he also took offence at the accusatory tone. "Care to explain why you want to know?"

Director Vance growled, "Don't play with me, Agent DiNozzo. As an NCIS special agent, your life is monitored by this agency. If anything unusual happens, it's brought to my attention."

Abby leaned over and whispered to Ducky, "Is he saying he's spying on us?"

_One rogue employee at a time_, Vance thought, ignoring the scientist's concern. Right now, DiNozzo had some questions to answer. "I'd like an explanation. You can begin by telling me where that money came from?"

Tony admitted, "I don't have a clue… obviously you've made a mistake." Then, as if a bad migraine had suddenly invaded his head, he pulled out his phone and dialed. _Pick up_, Tony thought, willing his father to answer. When it went to voice mail, he said, "Dad, call me. If you had anything to do with putting money into my account, we need to talk- ASAP!"

"You think your father deposited the money into your account?" Vance questioned, doubt shrouding his every word. "Why would he do that?"

Tony felt the weight of the accusation on his shoulders and the glare of his boss against his neck. "I stopped trying to figure out why my father did things a long time ago. You'll have to take it up with him if you want to know."

"I find it hard to believe that you know nothing about it. Don't you pay attention to your bank statements?"

"Evidently, not as closely as you do." Tony could feel his anger rising and that was never a good thing. In addition, he wished he had used the bathroom before entering MTAC. Sometimes when things went wrong, they went wrong on a colossal scale. "While you're trying to figure out my sudden wealth, I'll be right back." He took two steps closer to the door and was met by two NCIS security guards.

"Not so fast, Agent DiNozzo," Vance said. "I want your weapon. And you're not to go anywhere without an escort."

Gibbs interrupted, "Is that necessary, Leon?"

"Until I get answers, yes."

"I'm just going to the head!" Tony retorted.

"Not with your weapon and not without security."

Tony resisted the urge to offer some smartass remark about the two 5 foot 7 inch rent-a-cops that stood nervously in front of him. Instead, he offered them a smile and joked, "Hey Bob, I bet when you woke up this morning, you had no idea you'd be escorting a federal agent around his own federal building."

"No, Sir," Bob replied, taking his eyes off his subject and reaching for Tony's sidearm.

It was swift and it was quick and Bob never knew what hit him as he lay moaning on the floor at Tony's feet. The other guard pulled his gun and held it shakily in front of him, obviously intimated by the 6 foot 2 frame that seemed to be looming above him. Somehow, he managed to say, "Stay where you are!"

"Tony!" Ziva yelled, bringing back some order to the darkened room. "Director! I will escort him to the men's room!"

"Take it easy, Marcus," Tony soothed the nervous guard, although he couldn't keep his mouth shut, "You shoot me and the paperwork will take days to complete. On the other hand, if you just ask for my gun, I'll hand it over." Satisfied that Marcus wasn't going to shoot him, he unhooked his sidearm from his belt and shoved it into Marcus' chest. Shooting a glance at his director, he left MTAC.

"Director," Ducky said, standing up from his front row seat, "I think you might be overreacting. Tony isn't the type of man who would come across this money illegally. It's most likely the doings of his father."

"Dr. Mallard, have you ever had the misfortune of being involved with a rogue agent?"

Ducky shook his head.

"Let me tell you it isn't pretty. A cop gone bad is a virus, spreading to other agents like a bad case of poison ivy. Every one of you, by association, is a suspect now."

McGee grimaced at the analogy while Abby asked, "You think we're guilty of something illegal?"

"Until I find out the origin of that money, yes."

Palmer helped the guard to his feet, holding onto his arm until he got his balance. Rubbing the side of his head, Bob asked, "What'd he hit me with?"

"His elbow," Jimmy answered. "Just for future reference, I don't think it's too wise to try and take a federal agent's gun. Put some ice on that and you shouldn't get too big a knot."

Bob nodded his head like a little boy getting advice from an older brother. Turning back to the Director, he asked, "You want me to get reinforcements? I can bring back Elvin?"

Director Vance nodded and Bob scurried away, still trying to get his bearings in the darkened room.

Ducky continued, "I must take issue with this, Director. Have you checked out the rest of our accounts as thoroughly?"

Vance nodded again.

"Then you know that none of us has come into contact with anything remotely close to fifty million dollars, or has made any unreasonable purchases."

With some embarrassment, Vance acknowledged the truth.

"So why detain us?"

"Finding no additional money in anyone's account does not mean you don't know about it."

"Leon," Gibbs said. "It's bad enough to accuse one of my agents, but to accuse all of us? That's an accusation I wouldn't want to take to court."

"I have no intention on airing our dirty laundry; at least not until I find out the extent and involvement. I've asked and received permission to handle this problem in house. I have 24 hours to supply an explanation, and if I don't make that window, I have to turn it over to Internal Security. And you know as well as I that Agent DiNozzo doesn't want IS in his business."

The idea of involving their own specialized version of checks and balances was the last thing anyone wanted. It is what signified the end of an otherwise illustrious career.

*******************************8

Tony said nothing on the way to the bathroom, but Ziva was all questions. "Did you have to hit him so hard? You could have just said 'no'."

"Reflex, Ziva. You know something about that."

"Director Vance is not going to give up. Where did you get that money?"

Tony gave her an incredulous look before he pushed through the door and walked over to the urinal. He was extraordinarily uncomfortable and the release of urine was almost euphoric. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as his bladder gave thanks.

"Tony! You are in some serious trouble!"

"Did it ever occur to you that I might want some privacy here?"

"You do not embarrass that easily. Now answer the question."

"Do you really think that money's mine?"

Ziva hesitated; unfortunately, it was enough to put Tony on the defensive. Angered by his partner's lack of trust, he zipped his pants and stepped over to the sink.

Ziva quickly added, "I think you are creative and perhaps what you think is legal may not be."

"Really? I've been a cop, a detective, and now a federal agent. Do you think I don't know the difference between legal acquisition and illegal acquisition?" He washed his hands without looking at her. Fueled by his anger, and offended by her comment, he quietly continued, "Do you actually believe me capable of such an thing?"

She saw the error of her ways and immediately shook her head, "No, I do not."

Unfortunately, it was too little too late. He threw the paper-towel in the trash and left. He cleared the eye scan to MTAC and pushed through the door to an ominous silence. When his pupils adjusted to the dark room, he looked around for Bob, but when he didn't see him, he settled on Marcus. "Sorry about that. Is Bob okay?"

Nervously, Marcus stepped clear of the agent and answered, "He'll be fine, Sir."

Becoming aware of a presence, Tony turned around and discovered he was standing less than a foot away from Elvin. Had Elvin been female and pretty, it'd have been okay; but Elvin was male and ugly, and at that very moment, standing far too inside Tony's bubble of personal space.

Ziva slipped between the two men and gently pushed Tony backwards. "Obviously, Tony, Bob is not fine with what you did. You owe him an apology."

Tony acquiesced and took several paces back, but that put him onto the floor with Director Vance. Not wanting to answer the same old question again, he pulled out his phone and dialed. After a minute, he left another message, "Dad, I'm in the hot seat down here trying to explain a bunch of money I don't have. Call me as soon as you get this!" Turning to face his larger than life image on the screen, he asked, "You been following me?"

"Not exactly," Vance answered, "just trying to get a feel for your daily activities."

"Why didn't you assign Ziva or McGee to follow me around? Better yet, why didn't you just ask me?"

"Tony…" Gibbs whispered.

"That was phase two," Vance cut across his words, "but you crashed our party. As for asking you, I'm asking you now: where did you get that money."

"And for the umpteenth time, I'm—" Tony's phone rang.

"Put it on speaker phone," Vance ordered.

Elvin took the phone from Tony's hand, ignoring the look of disdain, and set it on the console in front of McGee who plugged a small cable into the side and pressed a button. Annoyed, Tony answered, "Yeah."

"Tony?" a young sultry voice filled the room.

Tony grimaced and smacked his forehead. The recent events pushed his date from his brain. "Chantel."

"Where are you?" she asked. "We've been waiting at the restaurant for over an hour."

"I sort of got tied up here at work," he moaned, remembering the image of this beautiful model.

"How much longer will you be? And before you answer, you should know that I brought along my friend, Angie," she teased.

Vance leaned over and pressed Mute. "Who are they?"

"Chantel L'enfant and Angela Harper."

"Miss March and Miss April?" Palmer asked, gazing up at Tony in admiration.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, I forgot I was meeting her tonight. Damnit," he said more to himself than his colleagues. Gibbs and Ducky found the interruption amusing; Ziva and Vance didn't.

"Tony?" Chantel asked, "Are you still there?"

McGee took the phone off Mute and Tony replied, "Yeah, but I'm going to have a little problem making it there. Work is not going well right now."

Noticeably disappointed, she tried to lure him out, "I promised Angie a night to remember. And you, Anthony, promised me a repeat of last month. I invited her along because of your superior—"

"—Ahh, Chantel, how 'bout we discuss those things later, when I'm a little more accessible?"

"Sure thing, Tony. But you should know that Angie's really looking forward to meeting you."

Getting insight into Tony's world was quite a treat for any man, and knowing what Tony was supposed to be doing tonight and with whom caused a wave of envy to permeate the darkened room. Oblivious to it all, though,Tony smoothed, "Chantel, I promise I'll make it up to you—to both of you. I'm not sure when I'll be able to get away from the office tonight, but rest assured, your hotel is the first place I'll go."

She cooed, "You know where I'm staying. We'll be waiting up." And she clicked off.

Oozing admiration, Palmer couldn't help himself and asked, "Wasn't Miss March also Playmate of the Year last year?"

Tony nodded, but he didn't seem interested in expounding on his latest conquest.

Vance pressed, "Before we were interrupted, you were getting ready to tell us where you got fifty million dollars."

Frustrated, Tony shot back, "And for the umpteenth time, I don't have fifty million dollars. Do you think I'd be working here if I had that kind of money? Do you think I'd be working—period—if I had that kind of money?"

"Before you were a homicide cop, you worked narcotics in Baltimore. You have connections; you know how to move money—"

"—Look! I'm telling you that I don't know where that money came from! When was it deposited?"

McGee punched some buttons and displayed rows of account data, "The deposits were made in ten million dollar increments over a period of two weeks."

"Where were the deposits made from?"

"They all came from off-shore Jamaican accounts."

Tony rubbed his chin and looked at his colleagues who were all staring at him, expectantly waiting for answers, "What?"

Abby said, "The Director thinks we're involved somehow."

Tony turned to face Vance, "Why would you think that?"

"When an agent goes bad, it's—"

Tony took two long strides forward, "Wait a Goddamn—," but Gibbs intercepted him and pulled him back a few steps, "Hold up, Cowboy," he whispered.

Pointing his finger at the director, Tony seethed, "I didn't go bad!"

"Then explain that money!"

Gibbs pressed against Tony's chest, effectively pushing him backwards a few more steps and calmly stated, "We'll find out the origin of the cash and you'll be off the hot-seat. Handle this like you would handle a case."

Tony gave Vance one last stare before pacing around the small area, wracking his brain for some explanation of money he knew nothing about. It had to be from his father, but his father was broke. Even if his father came into some money, it would never be that much, and why would he stick it into his account, unless… could his father be in trouble? "When did you first learn about this?"

"It came to my attention two weeks ago," Vance answered. "We've been monitoring the account ever since."

"We?"

"NCIS IA. Any activity that falls into the category of 'questionable' gets my attention. And this is definitely 'questionable'."

Tony looked at his colleagues, remembering that it was because of him that they were all still here. Turning to face Vance again, he pleaded, "Why don't you let them go home? They have nothing to do with this… like I said, it's probably the work of my father."

Tony's phone interrupted any possible response. Before the second ring, McGee clicked it on and Tony said, "Yeah!" A few seconds of static came out the speakers, and then Tony repeated, "Hello?"

"Junior?"

"Dad? Dad! I'm glad you called… Did you—"

"I've been meaning to contact you, Junior."

"Yeah, well, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

"I deposited some money into one of your accounts. I was hoping to be able to move most of it before you found it."

The relief that swept over Tony was evident, "Ahh ha! See! I told you I didn't have anything to do with it!"

"Dad, why did you put it into MY account, why not one of yours?"

"To be honest, Junior, I probably should make you aware of something else, but now's not a good time."

"It's never a good time, Dad. Just tell me you'll move the money."

"I wish I could talk but I'm actually at my wedding."

"Of course you are."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you but it came about rather suddenly. I met Prince Omar in Monte Carlo and he introduced me to his sister, Princess Sarrah. One thing led to another and, well, I'm calling from Riyadh."

"That's nice, Dad. Say hi to Mom."

Gibbs studied his senior field agent. There was an anger building that seemed displaced; an anger that couldn't be assuaged with words; an anger that seemed to grow with each sentence. Quietly, he whispered, "Tony…"

But his subordinate wasn't heeding him any never-mind. Instead, Tony demanded, "When are you going to transfer the money?"

"The funds are from my St. Barts' endeavor. Most of it has to go to the developers."

"That's great, Dad," his annoyance was barely being controlled.

"I think you should know something else, Junior."

"What now?" Tony paced around, controlling his emotions by clasping his fingers behind his head and stretching.

"I have received several … threats…"

Ducky was the first to recognize the subtle change in Tony's demeanor: minute shifting of his eyes, color draining from his face, and beads of sweat forming on his brow. And if he were asked to interpret those physiological changes, he would attribute them to fear. But that would mean their Antony DiNozzo was afraid of something, and that just didn't ring true.

Tony snatched the phone up and ripped the speaker cord out. With control that only came from a certain upbringing, he demanded, "What kind of threats?"The room was so silent that the almost inaudible beeping of the receiver could be heard, and so could Tony's breathing. Even Vance looked confused at the sudden change in the agent.

Tony blocked out everyone else in the room while he listened to his father speak; his words seemed distorted to him now. This couldn't be happening— again. His mind felt like it was in mud, slow to process and mired in muck. The only sign that he was still breathing was the onset of sweaty hands and the rapid but shallow breathing of his lungs.

"Damnit, Dad!" Tony whispered, barely controlled anger. He looked down at the phone like he was going to press a button to disconnect, but instead, he suddenly whirled around and threw it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces. He wasn't going to go through that ordeal again. There were voices in the room, but he pushed them away, pacing across the floor trying to make sense of it all. "What!" he toned at Gibbs who had him by the arms and was looking into his eyes.

"Tony," Gibbs soothed, "what'd he say?"

He shrugged away, searching for something inside his head that wasn't there. He was suffocating in here, but Elvin and Marcus were making their presence known. "McGee!"

McGee jumped at the sound of his name and the force at which it was said. Both Gibbs and Ziva took a step closer to the MIT graduate, being somewhat confused by Tony's sudden interest in the man.

"Get me some paper!"

Tim obediently searched the area and found a yellow legal pad pushed against the console. He handed it over.

Tony snatched the pad and seethed, "A pen!"

He pulled a pen from his breast pocket and held it out.

Tony scrawled two words across the top, ripped the paper off, pulled out his ID, badge, and gun and handed everything over to Gibbs, saying, "I quit! Now move those guards!"

"What?" It was difficult to determine who asked the question as it seemed to have come in stereo.

Gibbs had only seen one other man look like this, and when it was all over with, the results weren't pretty. The handling of this was paramount.

"I won't accept—" Vance began, but was cut off by Gibbs' glare. Gibbs studied his agent a beat before soothingly asking, "Tony? What's going on?"

"Move those guards or I just may kill one of 'em."

There was no doubt in Gibbs' mind that Tony was capable of doing just that. With a tick of his head, all three guards moved aside and Tony exited MTAC.

All at once, everyone was speaking. "Are you just going to let him go?" Abby asked. "I've never seen him like that!" Palmer stated. "What did his father say to him?" Ziva wanted to know.

Gibbs ignored them all and looked at McGee. "Pull him up on the surveillance cameras."

A second later the outside cameras were displaying the dark parking lot. Tony walked to his car and slid into the driver's seat, but instead of starting the engine and driving off, he sat there.

"McGee, get his father back on the phone."

"At his wedding, Boss?"

Gibbs glared.

"Yes… of course, I'll call right now."

It went to voice mail. Gibbs spoke slowly and carefully, "Mr. DiNozzo, this is Special Agent Gibbs at NCIS. Your son just quit his job and it seemed to be the result of something you said. Is Tony in danger? Contact me immediately."

TBC

**Any and all comments are welcomed, although I'm not too crazy about being flamed. The comments help to keep the writing muses awake when all they want to do is sleep. **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was six in the morning and Ziva met McGee in the elevator. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No. How 'bout you?"

"Nope. I couldn't get what happened out of my head."

There was a moment of comfortable silence, each wanting to say something about Tony's sudden departure, but the door to the elevator slid open and they exited.

Gibbs wasn't shocked to see them, and would have been disappointed if they hadn't shown up so early. Afterall, they had a lot of work to do.

Immediately following them in the bullpen were Abby and Ducky. She looked forlornly at Tony's empty desk, and asked, "Has anyone heard from him?"

"He sat in his car for almost thirty minutes, then drove to his apartment and that's where he's been," Gibbs answered.

"McGee, I want you to follow him, don't let him out of your sight. Where he goes, you go."

"Gibbs," Ziva said, "I think I would be better at tailing him than McGee. I am highly skilled in that sort of surveillance."

"Maybe, but McGee's going to do it from his desk. Tap into the city cameras in case he leaves his apartment, and keep tabs on his accounts. I want to know if there's any activity." He turned and looked at Ducky and Abby, "If I hear anything, I'll let you know."

They watched him take the steps two at a time, presumably heading for the Director's office, until he was out of sight. They had nothing pressing to do so Ducky sat in Gibbs' chair and Abby sat down in Tony's chair. She picked up his mighty mouse stapler. A thought suddenly occurred to her; she would take his belongings to him!

"Don't even think about it," Ziva commented.

Abby raised her brows, innocent like. "What?"

"You're thinking about taking that to him. Don't do it."

"Why not? He could use a friend right now since he thinks we all ganged up against him last night."

Ducky shook his head, "He doesn't believe we are his enemy, Abby, and he isn't harboring ill feelings towards any of us, but he is confused, and scared. And I have to agree with Ziva. It's best to give him a little space. Whatever has unnerved the poor boy, may be beyond our capacity to help."

"I just don't want to sit around and do nothing. I want Tony back."

Ziva nodded her head in agreement, as did Ducky. But when they looked at McGee, he wasn't nodding.

"McGee, why are you turning white?" Ziva asked.

He was staring at his screen, watching activity that he wasn't sure he understood. "Get Gibbs back down here. I think I have something."

A quick phone call produced both Gibbs and Vance a minute later. "What'dya have, McGee?"

"I'm not sure, but there's activity on his credit card account. I'm tracing the merchant right now."

Gibbs said, "Put it up."

McGee clicked several keys and Tony's credit card bill appeared. "He just purchased a one way ticket on United Airlines to Los Angeles."

"Wait a minute," McGee continued, "here's another ticket purchase to Chicago, different airlines. Boss, this doesn't make sense. He can't be on both flights at the same time."

"He's leaving?" Abby said, unable to mask her sadness.

A thought occurred to Ziva and she returned to her computer and punched away. "Look at this." She sent her screen image to the plasma. "I've been looking for a specific Simon Nguyen movie, _Fright Night_, for Tony. It's extremely rare and would complete his horror classic film collection. There are never any to be found, but today, there's a bunch of new classic movies that have been listed."

Gibbs raised his shoulders in frustration, "Ziva, why do we care about old movies?"

"Because these movies are so rare that only a handful of people own them." She stared at the titles, then concluded, "Tony's selling off his collection."

The news didn't have time to linger because Jimmy Palmer walked into the bull pen. "I thought you might be interested in this email I got." He looked at Ziva and asked, "May I?"

She vacated her chair and he slid in and brought up the electronic mail software.

"Put it on the plasma," Gibbs said, feeling his agitation growing.

Ziva leaned over him, punched some keys, and then backed away to view the monitor. Palmer keyed in his user name and password and waited for the screen to build. The first entry in his Inbox was from Anthony DiNozzo. Palmer opened it up and read, "Are you interested in subletting my apartment? Contact me ASAP."

Abby stared at the email, unable to hold back her sadness and confusion. "Why is he leaving?"

All the information swarmed around Gibbs' head until it made sense, "He's not leaving; he's _running_."

"Running from what?" Vance asked.

"I don't know, but what was the last thing his father said to him, something about a warning?"

Ziva corrected, "It was a threat of some kind."

"And that's when Tony visibly changed," Ducky added.

"Jimmy," Gibbs said, "I want you to respond to that email, but stall him, keep him from leaving."

"How am I supposed to do that?" The look from Gibbs lifted him from the chair and sent him scurrying towards the staircase, mumbling, "I'll figure something out."

The phone on Tony's desk rang and Abby stared at it. Everyone in the Bull Pen stared at it. Gibbs said, "Pick it up."

"Special Agent Tony DiNozzo's desk, this is Abby Scuito." Her mouth turned into a smile but her eyes never followed. "Hello, Mr. DiNozzo. Do you remember me? Yes, I was the one in black," she confirmed. "I believe congratulations are in order."

Gibbs waved his hand in a circular motion indicating she should wrap up her conversation and turn him over. She nodded her head and said, "Mr. DiNozzo, may I put you on speaker phone? Agent Gibbs is here." She pressed the speaker button on the console and hung up the receiver. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Abby, I can hear you fine."

"Mr. DiNozzo?" Gibbs said, "this is Special Agent Gibbs. I have a few questions for you about your son."

"Is he in trouble?"

"That's what I'm hoping you can tell me. He quit his job last night. This morning, he's selling his possessions, subletting his apartment, and catching a flight to Los Angeles. Do you know anything about this?"

The delay was longer than the usual communication delay between continents, so Gibbs asked again, "Mr. DiNozzo?"

"Yes, I'm still here. I'm not sure where to begin."

"Try the beginning," Gibbs said, controlling his annoyance with the connection.

"When Tony was around ten years old, I was working on a similar project as I am now. That deal involved the development of an exclusive couples' resort on the island of Martinique. My backers gave me ten million to begin the project with a promise of another twenty million when we broke ground. That deal was accompanied by a lot of media attention."

"How does your son fit into this?" Gibbs asked.

"At the time, several of my associates warned of potential problems with brokering a deal of this magnitude."

"What kind of problems?"

"The only ones inherent when you mix a third world nation with a lot of money: kidnapping. My wife had just passed away, and it was only Tony and me banging around this big house. My advisors warned of the ease at which kidnappers could snatch people, like my son, and suggested we take precautions against it. I had a security system installed and even hired a body guard. Unfortunately, before we could complete the security system, Tony went missing."

"You mean he was kidnapped?" Abby asked, shocked.

"Yes, he was kidnapped. We frantically searched for him, but to no avail. After four days, the kidnappers contacted me and demanded five million dollars, but even though I had ten million in the bank, none of it was mine and there was no way of accessing it because of the checks and balances that we had put in place to secure it."

"What happened?"

"The FBI got involved because the kidnappers were claiming to be part of a US fundamentalist group calling themselves Jihadafrie. The FBI was able to pull some of the money together, but not all of it. They were short one million. My backers were willing to supply the rest, but we couldn't get to it within the kidnappers' deadline. Unless we produced five million dollars, they said they were going to kill Junior. The FBI told me that every available agent was out looking for him, but they were preparing me for the worst."

"Statistically, they said, the percentage of kidnappers who released their victims was low, and that was even when the demands were fully met. Time was running out so the FBI came up with a plan to use counterfeit bills. It was a long shot, but at least it looked like we were going to make the deadline.

"Did the kidnappers buy it?"

"They never had to. We never got a chance to find out. From out of nowhere, Junior appears. He walks right into the study and stands there staring at everyone."

"Who rescued him?" Vance asked.

"No one. He escaped on his own."

"How?" Gibbs asked.

"That's just it, nobody knows how he did it. He never told anybody. The FBI talked to him for weeks, but never found out how. I sent him to the best therapist in the country, a Dr. Thomas Blackwell, but Tony never opened up about his time in captivity. To my knowledge, he's never told anybody what happened to him or how he managed to get away."

Vance asked, "Was he okay?"

"No, not at all. He tried to act like everything was fine, but he was different. He explained away the black eyes, cuts and bruises as injuries he got while escaping, but his stories weren't consistent. He wouldn't let anyone near him, not even Lilly, our cook. With my approval, one of the FBI doctors slipped a sedative into his ice cream. It allowed him to fall asleep long enough to be transported to the hospital and given a thorough exam." Anthony DiNozzo, Sr. paused before adding, "You don't want to know what those bastards did to him."

Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd give anything to rewind the clock twenty four hours. "Were the kidnappers ever caught?"

"No, but it wasn't for lack of trying. The FBI followed every lead and every tip, but they came up empty. Eventually, the case went cold."

"When you told Tony that you're getting warnings again, are they the same warnings you got back then?"

"According to my advisors, these warnings are worse. Not only do I have the investor's money, but now I'm married to the Prince's sister. Tony's the only leverage anyone has. If they go after him again, like they've threatened to do, well, I don't want to think about it."

Gibbs leaned on his desk and asked quietly, "Is Tony in imminent danger?"

"My advisors think so. But what are the chances of it happening again? Besides, Tony is a federal agent, quite capable of taking care of himself."

"Not anymore," Ziva whispered.

A flicker of anger intended for Senior darted across Gibbs' eyes, but he reined it back in and said, "If he contacts you, let me know." He didn't wait for an answer before disconnecting the line. He asked Vance, "How hard is it to get Fornell in here?"

"I'll make the call and get back to you." Vance left the bullpen, ignoring the angry glares from the female half of the team.

"Boss, take a look at this," McGee said. "Another airline ticket has been purchased from Los Angeles to Columbus, Ohio. Isn't that where he went to school?"

"Yeah."

"Why would he be going back there?"

"It's a decoy. He knows something that we don't, which is why he's taking so many precautions."

Ziva watched the Director take the stairs when Abby's concerned look caught her eye. "Are you okay?"

"Why didn't Tony come to us for help?" Abby wondered. "This is the sort of thing you guys do for a living, you protect people."

"After last night? I can't say as I blame him? The Director all but accused him of being a dirty cop."

Ducky interjected, "If I may, Tony does not blame anyone here. In fact, he quite possibly feels the need to distance himself from the people he cares about in order to protect you. Based on his actions, he also believes that nobody can protect him from this group of kidnappers. He may even believe that it's just a matter of time before they catch up to him. Until we know what they said to him years ago when they kidnapped him, it's impossible to understand his actions."

"Ziva," Gibbs said, "Track down Blackwell. I want to talk to him."

"Right."

Fornell left the elevator and walked towards the Bull Pen. Taking one look at the faces he realized something of a serious nature was happening. "Why is my director ordering me to see you, Gibbs?"

"You got here fast."

"I was already en route when I got the call. I have an early morning meeting with Special Agent Bailey, or rather, I HAD an early morning meeting. Seeing you is supposed to take priority."

"I need your help in piecing together a cold case. Late 70's, kidnapping, Connecticut."

"Sure," Fornell said, looking expectantly around the room and wondering which one was going to give up his computer.

Ducky stood up and said, "Use this one. I'm sure Jethro won't mind."

Fornell logged onto the FBI databases and asked, "Who's the victim?"

"Anthony DiNozzo, Jr."

Fornell stopped and looked up, "Is this a joke?"

"Do we look like we're joking? I need to know what the FBI knows about this case."

It took a little searching, some digging, and a phone call to a friend, but he finally did it. "I found the Case file, its number is 78102-KID."

"Can you get the evidence delivered here?"

"If we still have it. We don't always keep everything." Fornell made a few more phone calls, and finally smiled, "We do have it and I've requested it be sent over immediately."

"Good. Abby, I want you to run every test imaginable on that evidence. I want to know who those kidnappers are."

Thankful to be doing something, she jumped up and headed towards the elevator, intent on meeting her carrier pigeons.

"McGee, follow Tony. I want to know if he actually goes to the airport or if it's a ruse."

"On it."

"Ziva?"

"I'm tracking down Blackwell now."

"Fornell, who was working the case?"

Still seated at his desk, he pressed some keys and read from his screen, "Agent Norman Krakowski was the lead agent on it."

"Can we talk to him?"

"Doubtful, he died ten years ago."

"Who else worked the case _who's still alive_?"

"Agents Helen Finley and Ted Knight are still alive and Finley is still at the bureau, in a consulting capacity."

"Can we get her in here?"

Fornell picked up the phone and dialed, "I can try."

******************************8

Ziva finally dialed a number that worked. A man answered; his voice, old and gravelly, was perhaps the result of too many cigars. "Dr. Blackwell? Dr. Thomas Blackwell?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Dr. Blackwell, my name is Ziva David and I'm a federal agent with NCIS." Gibbs listened as she explained who she was and what she wanted. Finally, she put him on speaker phone.

"Dr. Blackwell, this is Special Agent Gibbs. I'm following up on a kidnapping case that happened in the late 70s; you worked with the victim, Anthony DiNozzo, Jr. Do you remember it?"

"Of course I remember that case. The boy was around ten if memory serves. Tragic case."

"What can you tell me about it?"

"Well, let me see. The boy was kidnapped and held for five million dollars ransom, although I don't think the money was ever paid. The boy escaped on his own, with no help from the FBI, or CIA, or anyone else for that matter."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"Ten year old boy with a mischievous streak a mile wide. He ran circles around me, and just about anyone else who tried to work with him. He was an energetic boy, with big eyes and an inquisitive mind that would have been the envy of every scholar around the world had they known about him. Hey," he said, pausing briefly, "what's this all about? Why do you want to know about a case decades old?"

"We have new information about it?"

"Really? I tried to help the officials solve that case, but they never did."

"The boy," Gibbs said, reminding the old man what they had been talking about.

"Right, the young boy. Well, I remember he was extremely adept at avoiding questions. I just wanted him to tell me what happened, but he dodged every question or flat out refused to answer them. He kept a lot of pain bundled up inside."

"Did he tell you anything?"

"With words? No. But with body language? Yes."

Ducky asked, "What, exactly, did his body say, Dr. Blackwell?"

"There were the official reports that said he was assaulted. Sexually, physically, and emotionally. His little body was a mass of bruises, burns, and broken bones. But it was his eyes that told the story. He hadn't yet perfected the control over them like he had over his tongue, although some would argue that he talked too much. In reality, the boy didn't say much of anything. He told you just enough so you'd think he'd told you something."

"Do you know what became of the young boy?"

"Yes, I think I do. I believe he became a federal agent."

***********************************8

Former FBI Special Agent Helen Finley sat in the conference room, poised and relaxed. It had been a while since she'd discussed any of her cases, but once a detective, always a detective, and she looked forward to the dialogue. Tobias Fornell hadn't even graduated college when she was in her heyday of putting criminals behind bars, and as she sat across the table from him, eyeing him, she wondered what his arresting record was. Based on his glances up at her, he was wondering the same. Some things never changed.

At close to 79 years of age, she was still as sharp as she'd ever been in her youth and she had resented the bureau's forced retirement policy, something that the federal government liked to impose on employees as a viable cost cutting measure, but she couldn't complain too much. She commanded top dollar whenever they called her out of retirement to consult, and she was proud of what she'd accomplished in her career at the Bureau. Now, in her twilight years, she spent her time travelling with her third husband, sculpting on her veranda, and playing matriarch to the numerous nieces and nephews as she, herself, never had any children of her own.

"Agent Fornell," she began, "I hate to point out the obvious, but the FBI is paying me a sizeable amount of money right now to sit in this conference room, drink coffee and make small talk. Not that I don't appreciate an easy buck, but even I don't like government waste. Is there a reason why you so specifically requested me?"

"I'm waiting for Special Agent Gibbs to join us. It's a somewhat delicate matter that we're working on."

As if on cue, Gibbs and Ziva walked into the room. "Thank you for coming, Special Agent Finley," Ziva said. "This is Special Agent Gibbs, and I am Officer David."

"Please, honey, don't be so formal. Call me Helen since I've never gone by the title of Special Agent… in my day, we were simply called _Detective_." She gave both Gibbs and Ziva the once over and stated, "I see that NIS has continued its reputation of staffing itself with only the most attractive people in law enforcement."

Ziva cocked her head, unaware of that little tidbit of information. "We have changed our name to NCIS, Naval Criminal Investigative Unit. And I did not know we had that reputation?"

"Oh, honey," she winked at her, "the things I could tell you. But enough about me; as the saying goes, time is money, so how can be of help?"

Ziva smiled at her candor, taking an instant liking to her. "Helen, if you don't mind, we would like to ask you some questions about a case you handled in the 1970's."

"Oh my, we are going back a ways. There is but only one case that I worked on during that time period that would be of interest to anybody." She looked directly at each man before saying, "Case number 78102-KID."

They raised their eyebrows, both amazed and confused.

"Before you get your britches in a twist, answer me this: Am I right?"

"Yes-yes, you are," Ziva answered, "but how did you know?"

She slapped her palm against the table and said, "Damn! I should have placed a bet on that one." Then her smile faded and her eyes darkened, "Honey, I've carried that file around with me for years. As a detective, there are only a handful of cases that baffle you; I mean really shake you up and hit you at your core. That's the one that did it for me. A young child from a wealthy Connecticut family is kidnapped for ransom. For all appearances, this was just a simple kidnapping case, but it was anything but simple. From the beginning it took twists and turns that we didn't see in kidnapping cases. First, there was enough money to pay the ransom, but the father couldn't get to it. Then, before we could meet the deadline, the kidnapped boy walks into his father's study like he'd been out on a stroll. Everything about that case was wrong." She tapped Ziva's hand and whispered, "Have you any idea what it's like to stare into the eyes of a ten year old boy who's just been to hell and back? It's unnerving. And we let him down."

Fornell felt compelled to fill the silence. "You can't blame yourself for that."

She raised her head with affirmation. "Yes, you are right. I can't blame myself for that; at least, that's what everyone tells me. My director, my partner, colleagues, even my family told me that it wasn't my fault. But none of them saw him. None of them saw the way the boy calculated and measured the people who were supposedly around to protect him. And none of them knew the full extent of his injuries. We found out later, of course, but not immediately. The courage it must have taken to escape his captors, not to mention the abuse he was subjected to as a victim, were beyond anything a person should have had to endure, much less a child! His innocence was lost, as was his faith in people, law enforcement, adults, the list goes on and on. I could see it in his face: he felt betrayed and alone. And I see that expression every day that I wake up. Like I said, some things just don't leave you."

The words hung in the air. Ziva averted her eyes, now more worried about her partner than ever.

"Helen," Gibbs interrupted, "do you have any idea who kidnapped him?"

She exhaled and shook her head slowly, "I wish we did. We figured out early that the name they went by, Jihadafrie, was bogus, but we couldn't determine if they were a group of well organized individuals on a quest, or a single person who could best be described as a bumbling idiot."

Ziva raised her brow, "A bumbling idiot could have done this?"

"Sometimes, Officer David, criminals just get lucky. Without any leads to go on and with the boy not cooperating, we lost any trail we may have had. We didn't have all the fancy lab work of today, so eventually the case went cold." She trailed off in thought. "You know, I think about this case all the time. I wonder where we went wrong, other than the obvious. That boy…," she leaned forward, tapped her finger on the table, "Anthony…. he knows. I'd stake my life on it that he knows who the kidnappers are, but we couldn't get through to him." She paused in thoughtful silence. "The kidnappers said something to that boy that shut him down. And then they reinforced their message with physical, sexual, and emotional abuse so he wouldn't forget it. Abuse is a powerful tool against a child."

Helen shook her head, pushing those thoughts away. "I'd give anything to bring justice to that boy. I gotta tell you, though, he was one hell of a trooper. Escaping on his own and all."

"What's your gut tell you, Helen?" Gibbs asked, sensing a talent in the former detective not unlike his own. "'Who do _you_ think did it?"

She eyed him slowly, knowing that 'guts' weren't considered a viable source of data, but she had used hers regularly in the day and it had served her well. She leaned forward, as if revealing a secret she'd waited years to tell. "I think someone close to the family did it. I think the boy knew his kidnapper, and I think whatever they said to him, paralyzed him. It was so powerful and so frightening that the boy shut down, perhaps the only way he knew to protect the only person left in his life. But mark my words, he knows."

"He knows?" Gibbs repeated.

She nodded her head, "He knows."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Many thanks for the reviews. Enjoy!**

Chapter 3

Ziva followed Gibbs into the bull pen. "If he knows," she stated, "then why didn't he tell anyone?"

Gibbs often felt exasperated when talking to the Mossad officer about children, and ignored her question. Instead he asked, "Where's Tony now?"

McGee stared at his computer screen and answered, "He left for the airport."

Gibbs looked up to see Palmer hurrying in, "Agent Gibbs, I tried to stall him, but he left the key with a neighbor instead of waiting for me to pick it up. I'm sorry I couldn't keep him—"

"Ziva, I want you to intercept him. Bring him back."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

Ducky walked up behind her and pressed a small vial into her hands, "I think this may help. Not too much, otherwise you'll be carrying him. Just enough to make it look like he's had a few too many."

"Thanks, Ducky." She grabbed her purse and looked at McGee.

"I'll book a flight that intercepts his once I'm sure he's boarded it. Just go to the airport and wait. It'll either be to LA or Chicago, depending on which one he decides."

"Thanks. I will be waiting." And she left the bullpen.

Ducky loitered around Gibbs' desk, eventually asking, "Did Agent Finley shed any light on the matter?"

"Yeah. Tony knows who kidnapped him."

"Oh. That makes it all the more challenging."

"It doesn't make sense to me, Duck. I understand at ten why he would shut down. But now? Why run now? Why not go after the bastards?"

McGee looked up at the anger in his boss' voice.

Ducky shrugged, "Getting inside a person's head is difficult. There's no telling what the kidnapper's said to him, or how they impressed their threats upon him."

"Still, Tony's a cop, trained to bring in these guys. _Sworn_ to bring in these guys."

"Yes, but let's not forget something. We see Tony as an adult, as a highly skilled agent, second to none in solving crimes, yet carefree in life as well as in love. His easy going façade may just be that, a mask he wears to protect himself. We forget that he was once a boy, innocent and chaste. If a child is threatened with the one thing that means more to him than anything else, it's possible to get that child to do just about anything, even forgetting names and faces."

It dawned on Gibbs what the threat was, "His father."

Having overheard the conversation, McGee argued, "But I didn't think Tony had a good relationship with his father growing up."

"My dear boy," Ducky said, turning around, "having a good relationship is not essential to wanting to protect someone. Having lost his mother, it's possible that Tony gave everything he had to his father, even if his father didn't reciprocate. Sometimes a child is capable of doing just about anything to avoid experiencing the death of another parent. The only way Tony knew to keep his father safe, was to stop talking."

"But now, the only way is to run," McGee surmised.

Gibbs contemplated the comment. What if he weren't running? The answer to that didn't bode well for the young agent.

**************************************8

It was just by luck that Ziva spied Tony sitting in the corner of a dimly lit airport lounge. He sat staring out the window at the 747 jumbo planes being filled with luggage and fuel. In front of him sat a half empty drink. Ziva called the waitress over and displayed her badge. "What's that man in the corner drinking?"

"Gin and Tonic."

"Bring me one, please."

The waitress returned with the drink. As soon as she turned her back, Ziva tipped the vial and dropped a splash into the drink, then quickly shoved the vial back into her jacket. "Excuse me, again," Ziva smiled. "Would you give this to him and say it's on the house?" Ziva laid a twenty dollar bill next to it.

The waitress' eyes lingered on the twenty. She tucked it into her pocket and said, "Sure." As she walked away, Ziva disappeared into the concourse, subtly observing her partner between the throngs of people making their way to their gates.

Tony was a slow drinker today, but eventually he looked at his watch, and Ziva could tell he was having trouble focusing. He shook the dizziness from his head, laid down some cash and picked up his bag, but the dizziness didn't abate, and the walk between the tables was proving difficult. By the time he made it to the corridor, he was leaning heavily against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying desperately to shake the feeling that he'd just been drugged.

Ziva slid under his arm and said, "I've got you, Tony. Let's go."

Too weak to argue and barely having the legs to walk, he leaned on her and mumbled, "Did zuu do dis?"

"Yes."

"You should'nt have," he slurred.

"You can have that discussion with Gibbs. Now, I would appreciate it if you would help me because I can't very well carry you out of here." She struggled with him, almost tumbling to the floor on top of him at one point. He argued with her; he pleaded with her; he even threatened her. But she remained steadfast in her goal and managed to push, shove, bundle, jostle and basically manhandle her partner down the concourse and into her car.

***************************************8

When Tony finally came to, it was dark, and he discovered that he was wrapped in a blanket and lying on someone's sofa. Like a sharp pain to the head, he thought the worst. Throwing the blanket off, he sat up, bracing for the unexpected.

"Relax, Tony," Gibbs said and clicked on the soft incandescent light, but for some reason, he was not prepared for the look on his agent's face.

Tony took a deep shaky breath and rubbed his hands over his face. "What'd you do to me?"

"Just gave you something to sleep."

"How'd I get here?"

"Ziva brought you."

He slapped his hands on his knees and slowly blinked away the fuzziness. "Ziva," his tone hinted at anger. "This isn't LA."

"Nope."

Standing unsteadily, he searched the room, "Once I find my shoes, I'm leaving."

"No, you aren't."

Tony tilted his head, annoyed. "I no longer work for you, Jethro, so I don't need your permission to leave. I'll leave with or without my shoes."

Gibbs leaned back and let Tony stumble to the front door. He listened as is opened, and then figured he'd probably get about two steps before two NCIS agents turned him back. A sad smile creased his lips as he listened to a few expletives and waited for his agent to return.

"What the hell is this?" Tony said.

"We need to talk. Sit down."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"I don't agree."

"Vance accused me of being a dirty cop… I'm not working under those conditions."

"It's not about Vance."

Tony continued to hunt for his belongings. So far, he'd only found his wallet, but his shoes, phone and keys were still missing. Even his duffle bag wasn't anywhere to be found. "And I've missed my flight. You owe me airfare."

Gibbs snickered slightly at his agent's priorities, but basically didn't give a damn about the flight or the airfare. He only cared about understanding his agent's behavior. But first, he'd have to let him burn some of the agitation off before he pressed him for answers. There's one thing that Gibbs knew to be true and that was Tony didn't like being too far into the negative zone. He might slip into it once in a while, but he'd bring himself back fairly quickly. In the meantime, Gibbs just had to make sure he didn't do any permanent damage while he was there.

The fire cracked and popped and the air filled with the aroma of grilled meat. Gibbs walked to the fireplace, picked up a spatula, and pulled off a two inch thick Porterhouse steak.

"Sit down. Eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

Gibbs stopped carving and stared up at his agent.

Tony looked down at the perfectly broiled steak, oozing rich red juices, and titillating his nostrils with the charbroiled aroma worthy of a top cut of meat, and rethought his position. "Okay, maybe a small piece."

Gibbs allowed a slow smile to form as he sliced the steak in two and slapped half on a plate. Then he went to the kitchen and brought back two beers, sitting one on the table. They ate in a comfortable silence. Tony ate slowly, broodingly; Gibbs ate faster, patiently. Sleep, food, warmth and beer were ingredients to a calming atmosphere, but not necessarily conducive for dialogue, which in most circumstances suited Gibbs just fine. There were many things he liked about his senior agent, but he found he particularly enjoyed their verbal exchanges, however one-sided they may be. Tony could keep up with him in a way others couldn't, even challenge him when necessary. It's not that he said more, or was more profound, it was that they were in sync with their thoughts and didn't need a lot of words to get their message across.

Gibbs replaced his empty beer bottle with a full one and brought one for Tony. He wondered what his agent was going to do next. He'd only half eaten his steak, seemed content to take on another bottle of beer, and didn't look too interested in resuming his search for his shoes. Convinced he wasn't in any hurry to leave, Gibbs returned from taking the plates to the kitchen and sat down in a chair, staring at the slow burning fire, and waiting.

Tony too stared at the fire. It felt good to feel the warmth against his skin. He felt safe again, but he still wasn't quite _there_, wherever _there_ was? His head space was all mixed up and his thoughts were in hyper drive. How much was the affects of the drug and how much was the result of the last 24 hours was anybody's guess, but he didn't want to think too hard about his life right now. He wanted to let the warm air flow over his body and remember the finer moments of his life. The first seven years.

Gibbs watched in fascination. His agent was never easy to read. Hell, he wasn't ever easy to handle either, but that was because he had a streak in him that defied logic. There were times when the young agent would push people to the boundary of their limits, and then pull back just before the moment of no return. He decided his agent had had enough time to mull things over, and stood. Approaching the fire, he stoked it a few times, making the flames burn brighter and the hot coals dance and glow under the wood.

Tony watched him intently.

He replaced the tongs and returned to his chair. On the way, he quietly said, "I know what happened."

Tony didn't look surprised. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

If Gibbs didn't know better, he'd swear he looked relieved.

"Care to talk about it?"

"You already know what happened."

"I know what's in the case file."

But Tony didn't respond to that opening. After a few minutes of silence, Gibbs pressed, "You know who did it, Tony. You've always known who your kidnappers were."

Tony lulled his head and stared at the fire. He was embarrassed, anxious and, although his appetite had been sated, his head now pounded from the after affects of the drug. "You got anything for a headache?"

Gibbs left and returned with a bottle.

Tony took a handful and washed them down with beer. Leaning back, he stared at the fire again. Finally he answered, "My father made many enemies building his businesses, but none as perverted or distorted as the Spence family from Jamaica."

Gibbs leaned forward now, making it easier to hear the whisperings of his agent.

"We had met them while taking a vacation there—well, not exactly a vacation, it was more like a business trip. My father had told me we were going on a vacation, but we weren't. It was one of his deals…one of his many deals that promised millions." He stared at the flames a minute, reflecting on the moment.

"He had hired this family to watch me, and told me to mind them, but the Spence family scared me from the first time I laid eyes on them, and I didn't want to be with them. While my father shook hands, solidified deals, and signed contracts, Derrick and Deshane treated me like a…" he broke off his thought.

Gibbs gave him a minute, studying his eyes as they darted back and forth at the fire, seeing something that wasn't there.

Resuming his story a minute later, he continued, "Indecent Liberties is the crime the authorities would have charged them with had their actions ever been brought to anyone's attention, but they threatened to do worse things to me if I said anything. They showed me pictures of what they'd done to a couple of boys who tried to rat them out once, and told me that's what they would do to me if I said anything. And if that wasn't enough to deter me, they told me what they'd do to my father." Tony finally looked at his boss and said, "And they were very explicit. Seemed they hated him just for having money, and taking it out on me made my father's wealth just a little easier to swallow."

"I handled it the only way I knew how: I buried it. Like a dead animal, I tucked what they had done to me so far inside my head that there were times when I wondered if it had all been some sort of nightmare. And besides, that's just what my family did. If something bothered us, we ignored it; if something angered us, we ignored it; if something scared us, we ignored it." Tony took a long swallow from his beer and let it warm the back of his throat. "My father's dealings in Jamaica eventually came to an end, and we went back home where I tried to forget what they'd done, but that's the sort of thing that's almost impossible to forget.

"A year went by and I actually thought I was doing okay, at least until one day in late November. My father sent his driver to school every day to pick me up, but I hated being picked up in a limousine so I would meet him a block away. I would pretend to walk home, and Richard, my dad's chauffeur, would park a couple blocks away and I would double back and meet him. Only this time, it wasn't Richard who met me. By the time I saw Derrick, it was too late as I was already inside the limo. My first thought was that they'd done something to my father, but they laughed and told me that my father had hired them again to take care of me. I didn't know whether or not to believe them. They took me to an estate, not too far from where I lived, but it looked vacant or something, being sold I think. They locked me in the cellar and told me that my father had to take an unexpected trip and had flown them up since I had such a good time with them before.

Tony scratched his head, trying to push thoughts away. Then he fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt, struggling with words, memories, feelings. "Deshane had different plans for me, and that's when the abuse really began. At first it was mental, they played with my mind by reminding me what they'd done to me the year before. Then it became sexual—" he swallowed, eyes flicked around the room trying to escape the ingrained images. "Then it became physical. I didn't know why they were doing these things to me. I soon realized that my father wasn't on a business trip. The fact was I had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom. But what I didn't understand was why my father wasn't paying the ransom? They—" He broke off, wincing at the memory. Taking a breath, he continued, "They hurt me. A lot. They did— they did unspeakable things..." Tony's words got swallowed in the back of his throat preventing him from finishing his thoughts."

"Take your time," Gibbs gently said.

Taking a shaky breath, he continued, "Tied up in a cold room and waiting for the next time they came for me, I learned something about myself. I learned that it's possible for something inside you to snap. When you finally realize that nobody's coming to help you, you also realize that there are no rules to follow… it was actually quite liberating. And that's what I did; I snapped."

"It wasn't that difficult getting away once I decided to do it. It really came down to timing. I waited patiently for my first opportunity, and then I snuck out. The bastards would get drunk and…well, it's easy to find an escape route if you're duly motivated. When I walked into my dad's study, I didn't expect to see it filled with equipment and people." Tony smiled at the memory and said, "I even think my father was actually glad to see me. One of the few times he hugged me."

Gibbs listened, remaining impassive to the news, or at least trying to. The flames of the fire had been reduced to hot ashes and the room had cooled. He couldn't hold back asking the one question that begged to be answered. "So why didn't you tell the police who did it?"

Gibbs wasn't sure Tony had heard the question because he remained frozen, staring at the hot coals. Eventually, he answered, "At first, I believed them. I was ten years old and didn't want to lose my father; after all, he was all I had left after my mother died. From the time I was kidnapped until the time I escaped, they filled my head with images of what they'd do to him if I mentioned their names. They knew things about me that surprised me, and that gave them the advantage. They threatened everyone and everything that I ever valued. It was enough to keep me quiet; at least until I got older." He paused again, thinking. "When I got older, the ordeal found a way of creeping into my dreams. Occasionally, my father would ask me about it, but I suspected he never really wanted to know what all I went through. He sort of asked out obligation, knowing I had nothing to say on the subject. But as the images crept from my subconscious world into my conscious world, I began to want revenge. I never even though about wanting justice… hell, I didn't even know what justice was back then. I just wanted revenge." Tony stopped talking, and rubbed his fingers over his eyes to relieve their fatigue, but Gibbs suspected it was more to rid his mind of the thoughts he shouldn't have been having.

"So what happened?"

"I did a better job a burying the pain than I thought possible… until I talked to my dad yesterday and he told me about the warnings. Believe it or not, Gibbs, I've kept up with the Spence family. They happen to be part of one of the largest Jamaican drug cartels in the Caribbean. They must have seen easy money passing through my dad's Jamaican account, and they were going to get a piece of it."

"Why did you run?"

Surprised, he looked at his boss. "I didn't run. I had to put distance between myself and anyone I ever cared about: you, Ziva, McGee, Abby…even my father. Once I'd done that, then I was going after them. One by one I was going to make Derrick, Deshane, and Rashel pay for what they did."

"And ruin your own life?"

Tony's anger flashed, but then he reeled it back in. "Maybe. But my way protects me from having to testify in an open court. My way protests me from having to relive all that they ever did to me. And my way protects me from having to look over my shoulder anymore, and worry about people I care about. I haven't been a cop for almost fifteen years and not learn a thing or two about crime."

Gibbs leaned back, remembering his own wayward days of vengeance. Like Tony, he used his highly honed skills to his advantage, but the results weren't pretty, and the action has haunted him for life. There were some redeeming qualities though. The actual planning of the murder helped him through the grieving period. Knowing that the man responsible for killing his girls would never see his own children grow up had its value. But in the end, the actual feelings were never as good as what he thought he would feel. "You're going to need help," he stated, non chalantly.

Tony wasn't sure he heard correctly. "No way, Gibbs, no way are you getting involved. This is my problem, not yours."

"You just quit my team. You made it my problem."

"No, I don't want you involved."

"I'm already involved. You think you're going to be able to take on an entire Jamaican drug cartel alone?"

"I don't plan on taking on an entire drug cartel. I plan on taking on three people: Derrick, Deshane, and Rashel Spence."

"Oh, I get it. And when the cartel comes after you, what then?"

Tony was confused by the affront. "They won't come after me."

"Oh? Then they'll go after your father."

"They won't do that either."

"How can you be sure? How can you know that your plan won't backfire in some way?"

"Mainly because I don't have a plan, yet! But rest assured that whatever plan I come up with will be foolproof. Not even Abby will be able to trace evidence back to me."

"I can help with that."

"You are not getting involved!"

"Too late for that."

Exasperated, Tony resumed his search for his belongings.

"You can run, Tony, but you can't hide. I'll track you every step of the way, and I'll follow your movements. I'll know everything you're going to do even before you know. I'll make it so hard on you that taking a breath is going to feel like work. Unless, of course, you let me help."

"No way!"

"Suit yourself, but I have to warn you, I'll be on you like Goth on Abby."

Tony glared, wondering why Gibbs was doing this. He couldn't drag anyone else down the path he was taking. "Where the hell are my shoes!"

Gibbs shrugged, "Get used to it, Tony. Either you and I go after them together, or it becomes a race to see who gets to them first, you or NCIS." Gibbs stood slowly, warily following his young agent with his eyes, fully aware that he'd just thrown down the gauntlet. Two alpha dogs in a small room fighting over a bone could get messy. As he stared, he wondered if Tony was going to rise to the occasion. Then he wondered if he could take Tony if he did. The fact is he knew he couldn't; he just hoped Tony didn't bust him up too badly.

Taking two steps forward, Tony toned, "You wouldn't."

"I would."

There was a flash of uncertainty on Tony's part. Gibbs stood his ground, knowing a cornered man was as dangerous as a desperate one. He thought about giving him some space, but then something happened to Tony that he didn't see coming. Like air being let out of a balloon, he deflated. He lowered himself to the sofa and swallowed his emotions.

"I can't fight you, Jethro. I won't," he whispered.

The relief that Leroy Jethro Gibbs felt was visibly noticeable had anyone been looking. "I'm glad you can't. I wasn't looking forward to it."

Emotionally exhausted and physically spent, Tony closed his eyes. The events of the past two hours seemed to have drained him of whatever reserve he had been using, and the taunt muscles and tense jaw line melted away as he sunk into the sofa.

"Relax," Gibbs soothed, knowing a reassuring tone was as good as a shot of whiskey. "Rest up, and then you and I will talk more in the morning." He thinks Tony was asleep before he'd finished his sentence.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"How is he?" Ziva asked, a little too anxiously.

"He'll be fine," Gibbs replied.

"Where is he?"

"At my place, sleeping. McGee? Find out everything you can on a Jamaican family named Spence. Derrick Spence, Rashel Spence, and Deshane Spence."

"On it."

"Ziva, pull up information on drug cartels in Jamaica."

"Does this have anything to do with Tony?" she asked. But she quickly backed off her question when her boss gave her that patented glare. "On it."

Gibbs stopped long enough to pick up some papers on his desk and then left again. It was time to get a better handle on the subject. Walking into Autopsy, he found Ducky leaning over his desk instead of a body. "Work a little slow lately?"

"Yes, you could say that. I guess that's a good thing though. What brings you down here when I don't have so much as a limb to analyze?"

"DiNozzo."

"Ahh yes, the enigmatic Anthony. I thought we'd be discussing him sooner than later. Is he safe?"

"He's at my place. Sleeping."

"Yes, and no doubt exhausted and weary. Forcing memories to the surface of one's mind takes a physical toll on one's body. Did he explain why he ran?"

"He wasn't running. He was setting up the board to go after the people responsible."

Ducky read between the lines, "Revenge?"

"Yeah."

"Against whom?"

"A Jamaican family by the name of Spence. They were the ones responsible for kidnapping and abusing him as a kid, and they're most likely the ones responsible for this latest threat, only now they're part of a drug cartel."

"Do you think him capable of such an act?"

Gibbs smirked, "Oh, yeah."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to know how to handle him so he comes out of this with the fewest possible scars."

"That's a nice goal, Jethro, but I'm afraid it's not too realistic. Having to confront your fears, in theory, is a step forward in any healing process; in reality, though, it can be devastating. It rarely turns out being that cathartic experience one hopes for."

Gibbs' mouth hardened.

"However, knowing Anthony the way I do, possibly the best way to help him is to keep him out of the fray for as long as possible. Not an easy task given who you're dealing with, but, perhaps, sending him on a wild goose chase wouldn't be out of line in his case."

Gibbs' mouth softened. That idea had potential and it would allow his team to do their job. "Thanks, Ducky."

"Don't mention it," he replied, wondering what his friend had in mind.

"Boss, I found quite a few families in Jamaica with the last name of Spence. It happens to be one of the more popular last names on the island, if not the most popular. And the names Deshane, Derrick and Rashel are also very popular. But I wrote a short script that filters through the tax records and birth certificates looking for all names—"

"McGee!"

"Sorry, Boss. I found the family." He pushed images of driver's licenses to the plasma. "Derrick Spence, 52 years old, Jamaican born and raised. Spent some time in Miami. No visible means of support but drives expensive cars, wears expensive clothes, and dates beautiful women." He switched pictures and displayed another man's image, "This is Deshane Spence, his brother, 50 years old, and a Derrick wannabe. Also no visible means of support but seems to have money. Both brothers are linked to a small automotive repair shop on the island." Another image appeared, only this one was of a woman. "This is Rashel Spence, their sister, 46 years of age. Doesn't seem to live so lavishly. Spends most of her time taking care of her mother."

"Any criminal activity on them?"

"Yes. Derrick was busted in Miami on drug charges. He was bailed out before he was even processed in, and the case never went to court—evidence turned up missing. Deshane has a longer rap sheet. He's been busted for child molestation, rape, and lewd conduct with a minor. He wasn't so lucky and served five years in Her Majesty's Prisons at Dodds Correctional Facility."

Ziva took the remote and clicked, saying, "This is T'von Rivas-Gonzalez, the head of the Jamaican drug cartel. He runs a small, but powerful, drug ring that includes the Caribbean islands of Nevis, St. Bart's and Martinique, and he has direct ties to Mexico." She clicked open a document and said, "This is a roster of names confiscated by the FBI last year. It lists all the members of T'von Rivas' inner circle." She enlarged the screen and highlighted two names: Derrick Spence and Deshane Spence.

It was coming together for Gibbs, but he liked for his team to formulate their own theories.

Ziva continued, "When Mr. DiNozzo deposited fifty million dollars into Tony's New York account, it first went through a bank on the island of Nevis. That's possibly when it came to the attention of T'von Wilson. He could have followed the money and decided to expand his organization to include blackmail."

Gibbs tilted his head and looked at her, conveying her theory was close, but perhaps not quite on target.

"What? There is no other explanation, Gibbs."

"Unless…" McGee added, "It's not T'von Wilson who's doing the blackmailing, but Derrick Spence. Somehow, Derrick must have crossed paths with DiNozzo, Sr. and learned about the money."

Ziva moved back to her desk and said, "I will track his father's money and see if there is a connection."

"Boss?" McGee said, "Fornell called and said you have a package in evidence."

Gibbs stood in the elevator holding the box of bagged evidence. He had briefly glanced at it when he picked it up, but now he had an opportunity to look closer at its contents.

A bloody shirt. Bloody jeans. Bloody socks and tennis shoes. All of a size that would fit a boy of ten. If any particle remained on these articles of clothing that could implicate the Spence family, Abby would find it; of that, he was sure.

The music assaulted his senses and he yelled, "Abby! Turn it down!"

She turned down the music and said, "Hi, Gibbs, I understand you have Tony. Is he okay? Did he tell you why he left?"

"Abby, I need you to do something." He set the box down while she signed the log. "Analyze these."

She glanced at the bags and saw the name handwritten on the label. Picking one up, she studied the well worn t-shirt with the faded Spiderman decal on the front. "I'll be extra thorough."

"I know you will."

Gibbs returned to the elevator and pressed his floor, then thought better of it. Riding it to the top, he walked across the mezzanine and into his Director's office.

Looking up from his papers, Vance said, "I've been waiting for you."

"You owe him an apology."

"I was just doing my job."

"Accusing one of my agents of being dirty isn't exactly a morale booster. You should have come to me first."

"That's not protocol."

"Neither is pulling my entire team together in what was little more than a witch hunt."

Vance leaned back, contemplating the conversation. "Like I already said, I had limited time to get to the bottom of it. SECNAV had gotten wind of it and gave me less than a day to get my house in line. If Internal Affairs had been called in, your team would have been under a hell of a lot more scrutiny that I put them through."

Vance allowed his words to sink in again before adding, "How is he?"

"He'll live, but he has a tough road ahead of him. When we bring these people down, we may need some latitude."

Vance understood the meaning, and nodded. "Just keep it all nice and legal and you can have all the latitude you need."

He got almost out the door when his director's voice stopped him. "By the way, Gibbs, when this is all over, I will apologize, but not for what you think."

***********************************8

"Gibbs, I found the connection between the money and the Spence family," Ziva said, walking towards the plasma. "Rashel Spence works at a branch of the bank where Mr. DiNozzo deposited the money. She must have recognized the name and told her brother, Derrick, about it."

"Or Deshane," McGee said. "Boss, I pulled cell phone records on all three siblings and it looks like Deshane Spence made a call to Mr. DiNozzo's office."

"What'd he want?"

"According to the receptionist, he wanted to speak to Mr. DiNozzo, claiming they were old friends. Unfortunately, Mr. DiNozzo had already left for Riyadh."

"Where are they now?"

McGee clicked on the keyboard and said, "Rashel Spence is in Jamaica, as is Derrick, but Deshane is here in the United States. Miami to be exact."

"Where's Tony?"

McGee liked the spy gadgets and was particularly proud that Gibbs had used his miniature tracking device that he'd been soldering together for the better part of six months. "Did you put it in his shoe?"

"Yep."

"Looks like he's still at your place."

"Assuming he didn't leave barefoot," Gibbs added, remembering how he was going to do just that. A few drops from Ducky's vial into an open beer had slowed him down and would perhaps keep him in place for awhile, but he couldn't keep drugging his agent. Eventually, he'd catch on if he hadn't already.

"Keep tabs on the Spence family as well as Tony. I want to know where everyone is every minute of every day."

Ziva watched him leave the bullpen, and then sauntered over behind her colleague, leaning on his credenza. "Do you think Gibbs knows anything?"

"Do you?"

"I wish I could talk to him."

"Who?"

"Tony."

"I know that look. I wouldn't if I were you."

"Why not? I am his partner and I am worried about him."

"You WERE his partner. He resigned, remember?"

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Wait around for something to happen?"

"No. We do what Gibbs told us to do. We watch them." He pressed a few keys and a map appeared on half the screen with a red dot. "That's Tony. He's still at Gibbs' house, and this," he pulled up another map with another red dot, "is Deshane Spence, in Miami. I suggest you locate Rashel and Derrick and keep tabs on them."

***********************************8

Gibbs made a quick pit stop at his place at lunchtime. He expected to find Tony as he left him, asleep on his sofa. But the sofa was vacant. However, the water was running and he took a few steps to get a better angle on the sound and realized that Tony had found the shower.

He set the bag of groceries on the kitchen table and wrote a quick note, and left.

Back at the Navy Yard, he entered the noise filled lab, "Abby! Turn it down!"

She picked up the remote and lowered the volume, "Better?"

"What'da ya got?"

"Gibbs, you just gave me the evidence this morning. These things take time."

"We don't have time on this one."

Abby pulled up her analysis on the computer and read her findings: "There's a lot of DNA that matches Tony. Blood, saliva, hair…it's all Tony's. But I've found DNA from at least two other people, but I haven't got a hit yet."

"Try running them through the FBI's database."

"I did already. Nothing."

"Go back twenty years."

"Gibbs, I don't know if they have data going back that far. My friend at the CIA said they're inputting data from earlier cases, but they're only about 10% done. I can't imagine that the FBI would be any further along than the CIA."

"Keep trying, Abs."

In the elevator, he dialed his phone and waited patiently for the party to answer, "Fornell. How far back does your forensic database go?"

"Probably not as far as you need."

"What do you know about the Spence family out of Jamaica?"

"Aside from being part of a major drug cartel on the island?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"I'll get back to you."

Gibbs clicked off and tried to fit the pieces together. He had members of a Jamaican drug cartel after his agent, evidence from 25 years ago yet no database to run it against, and an agent bent on revenge. How was he going to fix this?

*******************************8

"Ziva."

She snapped to attention and reported, "Tony's still at your place, and Deshane Spence is still in Miami."

"McGee."

"Yes, Boss."

"Go help Abby."

"On it."

When he thought too hard about it, he knew what Tony would do, 'cuz that's what he would do. "Ziva."

"Yes."

"Go to my place and keep Tony from leaving."

"But he has not left your place."

"He will."

"Okay."

Alone, he contemplated the future. There was only one ending here that would satisfy his agent. If the story stopped anywhere else, Tony would be haunted for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, the only plausible ending was an impossibility. Tony must not be allowed to act on his feelings. The only way to ensure that is to ensure that he's not involved in their take down in any way. His ringing phone interrupted his thoughts, but not before the birth of a plan had taken place.

"Yeah."

"Gibbs, it's Tobias. That Jamaican drug cartel you wanted to know about, well…, they're bad news. The FBI in Florida has been trying to dismantle them for quite some time without much success. This wouldn't be connected to DiNotzo, would it?"

"Yeah, but I want him kept away from it."

"Don't trust him?"

"How bad do you want to get this drug ring?"

"The bureau's spent millions of dollars trying, while all along the cartel has taken in tens of millions pushing their merchandize. Rumor has it they're expanding too. So, we want them real bad."

"Then I have an idea."

"Am I going to like it?"

Gibbs clicked off and leaned back. As the idea matured in his head, it occurred to him that he had to come up with two plans: one to take the Spence family out, and one to keep Tony occupied.

"Status of your case, Agent Gibbs."

The team leader hadn't noticed his director until he heard his voice. "Waiting for evidence."

"Where's DiNozzo?"

"At my place, with Ziva."

Vance studied the team leader a beat before realizing something. "You have a plan."

"Yep."

"Do I want to hear it?"

"Nope."

"Will you need anything from this agency to carry out your plan?"

"Yep."

"That's what I thought."

****************************8

Ziva entered Gibbs' house tentatively. It took her eyes a minute to adjust from the late afternoon sun to the darkened interior of the house. "Tony?" she called, hoping she would find him in a suitable state. She crept further inside until she saw him sitting on the sofa. "Good, you are awake."

"Yeah."

She stood in front of him and, in the shadows of the room, it was difficult to tell if he'd made it through any type of hygienic routine. His hair was mussed, he wore a day's growth of facial hair, and he was still in the same clothes that he had worn to the airport. "Are you okay?"

He scrunched his face at the question, "You want to know if I'm okay? Let's see… I'm being drugged by my co-workers every time I turn around, I'm currently unemployed, and I have a headache that won't go away or even subside. What do you think?"

"I think you could use some clean clothes."

"You drugged me."

"Yes. I had to so you would not board that airplane."

"Whatever happened to just asking me not to?"

"If I thought that would have worked, I might have done it; but you know as well as I, that my asking would not have changed your mind."

He took a deep breath, realizing she was probably right. "The fact still remains that you drugged me, and I don't like it."

She relaxed, and allowed a small smile to touch the corners of her mouth at her partner's vulnerabilities. "Are you hungry?"

He was, and he'd been contemplating getting up and seeing what his host had brought by earlier, but it required energy that his drug filled body didn't have too much of lately.

"Why don't you take a shower, and I'll see what I can find." She dismissed any comment he may have given and went into the kitchen.

Slowly, he pulled himself off the couch and with stiff joints, made his way back upstairs to the bathroom. He debated on taking another shower and decided he would since the first one felt so good. He let the hot water rain down on him until he heard a knock on the door. From behind it, Ziva was informing him that his lunch was ready. He dried off and mumbled something incoherent when he realized he would have to put on the same clothes, but, like earlier, the shower made him feel a little better even if he didn't look it.

"Smells good."

She had warmed up a can of soup and made him a sandwich, for which he found himself immensely appreciative. He didn't realize how hungry he was until his nostrils took in the sweet aroma of the soup as it simmered on the stove.

"I didn't have much of a selection, but at least it's hot. There are two waters and a six pack in the refrigerator. Which do you want?"

"Water."

She took out both bottles and gave him one while she took the other.

He started to devour his food, until a thought suddenly entered his head and he slowly raised his eyes to stare at her.

"What?"

"You drugged me."

"Yes. And I am sorry." But she could tell he didn't believe her apology. "But you left me little choice."

"Little choice? I didn't even know you wanted to talk to me."

"I had to act fast."

He took a few spoonfuls of soup before he responded. "It's no wonder my headache won't subside with you and Gibbs constantly slipping me something. What is it anyway?"

"Something Ducky put together."

"Should I be worried about any little DiNozzo's?"

"I would think not," she replied, amused at his priorities.

"How long have I actually been awake these past two days?"

"I do not know, and I am unaware that Gibbs drugged you." She observed him as he slowed his eating. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face had lost much of its color. Even his body didn't exhibit the kind of energy she was accustomed to. Her phone rang and she excused herself and took it in the other room.

Tony stared into his bowl of soup, wondering how much she knew. Did she know what Deshane and Derrick had done to him? Did she know that there were times when he was so paralyzed with fear that the only way to overcome it was through deep breathing techniques he had learned while being psycho-analyzed by Dr. Blackwell? Would her opinion of him change if she ever found these things out?

"Tony? That was Gibbs. I have to get back to the office."

"I'll go with you."

"No, you quit, remember?"

"Gibbs never accepted it, remember?"

"It does not matter. There is nothing for you to do there. You will be in the way."

He was stunned, "What?"

"It is best if you stay here."

"This is MY case! This is all happening because of ME! What do you mean I'll be in the way?" Tony stared, feeling indignant.

"Very well, if you insist, BUT first, you must find something clean to wear. I'll put these dishes away while you go upstairs and find something."

"What's wrong with this?"

She scrunched her nose and shook her head, "I'm sure Gibbs has something that will fit you…, and,.. not smell."

He pushed back from his chair and slowly walked away. Once she was sure he was upstairs, she pulled out the little vial from her pocket, picked up her bottle of water and let a few drops fall in. "He's going to kill me…" she said, to no one in particular.

She was just finishing tidying up the kitchen when he returned, and did a double take at his appearance. She admired his attire with an approving smile, "Not bad…" but then she contemplated his face, scrutinizing it a little too intently for his liking.

"What?"

"You look dehydrated."

"It's no wonder with all the drugs I've been given these past few days. I feel fine."

"You do not look fine." She approached him and lowered his eye lid. "Yes, you are dehydrated. Drink your water."

"Let's just go."

"After you drink some water."

"You're kidding."

"Nope." She folded her arms across her chest in the universal symbol of defiance.

He picked up his bottle and studied it. Than a thought occurred to him and he narrowed his eyes. "Wait a minute. You _want_ me to drink this?"

"It is the best way to hydrate your body."

He studied his bottle and looked at hers, and then back to his own. "No way. I wouldn't put it past you to put something in this."

Incredulously, she responded, "I did not put anything in your water."

"I don't believe you."

"I agreed to take you back to NCIS, why would I want to carry you there?"

He considered the comment and determined she had a point. Continuing to be wary, he switched his bottle of water for hers. "Just to be sure." Pleased with his decision, he took a swallow.

She watched him, allowing a slow smile to lift the edges of her mouth. When he'd finished, he set it on the counter and declared, "There! Are you happy?"

"Very much."

"Then let's go."

She stared at him.

"C'mon!"

She followed him towards the front door and he almost made it before he had to use the wall to steady himself.

When he recognized the whoozy feeling, he slowly turned, "What in the Hell!"

"We cannot have you interfering with this investigation, Tony."

"So you drugged me, AGAIN!"

"It was not my idea. Gibbs told me to do it."

He leaned heavily against the wall and could not object when she slipped under his arm and guided him back to the sofa.

"David, you're gonna pay fur dis…"

"I am sure I will, but right now, I am more interested in making the Spence family pay for what they did."

TBC

**If you are reviewing my story, thanks for doing that! Almost finished with this! ~Jasmine**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"How is he?"

"He's angry that we keep drugging him."

"That's understandable," Ducky said. "We should probably stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Fornell asked, coming into the squad room. Seeing their expressions, he declared, "Nevermind, I don't want to know. You said you had a plan to get the Jamaican drug cartel?"

"More like an idea."

"Okay, let's hear it."

"The FBI wants to take out the drug cartel and we want to take out the Spence family. What if we got the Jamaican drug ring to question who they could trust?"

"I like it so far. Go on."

"What if Deshane Spence were videotaped talking with an NCIS agent."

"My guess is he wouldn't live very long."

Gibbs smiled, that was his thought as well.

"How do you propose we do that?"

Gibbs spent the next fifteen minutes dropping crumbs and allowing everyone else to fill in the blank. When they were finished, they had outlined a plan, complete with details and timelines, which would pit the Spence family against the drug cartel.

"How fast can we put this into motion?" Gibbs asked.

"We already have the players in place with two FBI agents undercover. If we can get the pictures to one of them, it's just a matter of time for it to unfold."

"Ziva, how do you feel about taking a trip to Miami?"

***********************************8

Tony woke up, groggy and unfocused. He had a strange feeling that someone was watching him and he rolled over. He couldn't make out the silhouette of the person in the chair, but it was definitely not Ziva. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to blink them into clarity, but all he could see was a blurry blob. "Who's there?"

"Tony, it's me."

"Me who?"

"Tim."

"Tim who?"

"Very funny. How're you feeling?"

He moaned and rolled over, his bladder feeling the pangs of being way too full. He threw the blanket off and sat up, but it was a position that made his head explode and his stomach lurch.

"That's the effects of the percicethomide. It should wear off soon. Here, let me help you."

McGee was unprepared for the angry shove that came his way, but sort of understood it. "Look, I'm sorry this is happening, but it's the only way we know to keep you safe and out of our way."

"Bullshit," Tony mumbled.

McGee watched him make his way towards the bathroom, and then looked around. He knew what he was going up against when Gibbs told him to come over here, but he actually had had no idea how he was going to occupy his partner the entire day. But Gibbs rarely gave instruction, preferring to let his people figure it out on their own. "Okay," he said to himself, "Tony is in a foul mood; he's been drugged for the 3rd time; he wants revenge; he's probably hungry and definitely miserable—"

"Who you talking to?"

"Uhh, nobody. Just thinking out loud."

"Where's Gibbs?"

"He's working this case so you can come back to work."

"So you all can continue to drug me?"

"No. So we can get back to doing what we're good at, which is catching the bad guys."

"Where's Ziva?"

"She's working the case, too. Look, I'm here to keep you company."

"You mean to make sure I don't do anything I'm not supposed to."

"That too. But mainly to make sure you're eating and resting."

"Resting? I've done nothing but rest!"

"Look," McGee said, setting a bag on the table, "I brought over a clean change of clothes. Ziva said you could use one." He pulled out a pair of jeans, a white button down shirt, some socks and shoes. "And here, I brought you some toiletries…a toothbrush, floss. It looks like you could use a shave."

Another shower would feel good, and wearing clean clothes was actually an appealing thought. "What time is it?"

"It's almost eight in the morning."

McGee was never so relieved as when Tony took the bag and dragged himself upstairs. At least that would kill an hour, and then he'd only have to figure out what to do the rest of the morning while Ziva was in Miami throwing herself at Deshane, and Gibbs and Fornell were in MTAC making sure all the pieces of this narrowly timed caper fell into place. McGee's job was to keep Tony occupied until Gibbs called, giving the go-ahead to bring him in.

When the senior agent emerged again, he was much more presentable, and McGee said, "You're looking better."

Unfortunately for McGee, his sour mood had not lifted, "I'm feeling like crap."

"Well, if it's any consolation, you don't look like crap. And, from the looks of it, we must be the same size. Those are my clothes."

"I hope that wasn't your toothbrush."

"No, not at all. I stopped and picked some things up before I came over here. Are you hungry?"

Tony was hungry, but he didn't want to eat anything. "Let's just go to the Navy Yard."

"Uhh, I was thinking we could go to breakfast."

"I'd rather go into work. I want to see where we are with the case. And if I know Gibbs, which I do, he's mucking around in the lives of some very dangerous people. He doesn't know these people like I do."

McGee studied him a beat, sensing a fear in his partner that he seldom ever saw. "Gibbs has it under control. If you'd like, you can call him."

Tony perked up at the thought. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you are undoubtedly preoccupied with other matters."

"Yeah, like trying to stay clear-headed? Where's my phone?"

They began the search for his cell and eventually McGee found it on the mantel, and handed it over. He watched silently as his partner pressed several buttons.

In MTAC, Gibbs and Fornell were quite pleased with the way the operation was unfolding when his phone rang. He showed it to Fornell before answering. "Yeah?"

"Gibbs? What's going on? Do you have them?"

"We're working on it, Tony."

"How are you working on it? Did you locate the family?"

Gibbs cocked his head, wondering just how much he was going to reveal. Knowing his agent would never stop until he got answers, he suggested, "Why don't you and McGee come in, and I'll fill you in on our progress."

Gibbs clicked his phone shut and looked at Fornel. "He's on his way."

"Are you prepared for that?"

"I will be." He handed the headset to Fornel and walked away.

Inside the lab, the music was loud and Gibbs had to shout over it. "Abs! I need you to do me a favor."

She smiled when he realized he was shouting even after she had turned down the sound. "What can I do for you?"

"Go to Big Al's and pick up hamburgers for everyone. Get yourself a veggie burger, and pick up drinks. Call me when you get back."

"Gibbs, wait! I have that analysis that you wanted."

"What is it?"

She lowered her voice, "The semen we found on the clothes matches the DNA for Deshane Spence." She knew this news was going to anger her boss, so she remained silent while he processed it. Once he'd finished internalizing her report, he walked away, saying over his shoulder, "Remember to call when you get back."

She looked at the empty doorway before turning back to her screens. Flipping them off, she took the money and headed out. Thirty minutes later, she was calling her boss and letting him know she had returned with the bag of food.

"Thanks, Abby," he said as he entered the lab again.

"No problem. How's Tony?"

"He's fine."

She realized that was all she was going to get, so he added, "I'm hungry. When are we going to eat these burgers?"

"Not yet." He pulled a small vial from his pocket and unwrapped one of the burgers. He sprinkled it with powder under the watchful eye of the forensics' scientist.

"I take it Tony is coming in. Does Ducky know you're doing this?"

"Nope." He wrapped the burger back up and placed it on top. "So don't tell him."

"Rule Number 8?"

She watched him leave again, then she reluctantly placed the bag of food under a heat light.

Tony and McGee were almost to the Navy Yard when McGee looked at his partner and asked, "You feeling better? You look like you are."

Tony nodded, "At least I feel like I'm doing something."

"Are you sure you're not hungry?" He was hoping to delay his arrival a few extra minutes.

"I don't want to stop. I just want to find out what Gibbs is doing. What is he doing?"

"He's trying to catch the guys who did this to you, Tony. And you coming in may be interfering with that."

"What are you talking about, McKill-Joy. I can help."

"If you could help, then why is Gibbs constantly drugging you?"

Tony snarled, and looked out the window. He knew why. Because he was going to kill the Spence brothers; obviously, Gibbs didn't want him doing that. It didn't matter what Gibbs wanted, though, because he was going to do it with, or without, anyone's help.

Tim recognized the set jawline, and decided against pursuing the conversation anymore. He drove the rest of the way there in silence.

The agents exited the elevator and entered the bullpen. Tony didn't wait for salutations and got straight to the point, "Where are they?"

Fornell raised a brow, "I thought you quit."

Gibbs said, "We're working this without you."

"Is my father all right?"

Gibbs almost didn't answer, but his agent's face was determined. "We have him under surveillance."

"In Riyadh? How are you protecting him there?"

Gibbs rubbed his chin, ignoring the comment.

Tony paced the bullpen, scratching his head and looking to McGee for some clues, but all he got was silence. "Did you find the Spence brothers?"

McGee shrugged, deflecting the question, so he turned back to Gibbs and pleaded, "Ah, come-on. You can at least tell me that!" Looking for another ally, he noticed she was gone and asked, "Where's Ziva?"

"She's in Miami."

"What's she doing there?"

"She's working a case," Gibbs replied, feigning frustration.

"What case!"

Gibbs tolerated the outburst, but it was evident he was getting annoyed with the constant distractions, not that he thought his agent would act otherwise. In fact, Tony was playing perfectly into his hands.

"Boss! You have no idea—"

"—Sit!" Gibbs said, confronting his senior agent. Standing eye to eye, he pointed to his agent's chair.

"But she shouldn't—"

Gibbs had already picked up a box and plopped it down on the agent's desk. "You want to do something?"

"What's this?" he asked as the box made a loud thud on his desk.

"These are the FBI files on your case."

"What do you want me to do with them?"

"I want you to go through them and see if we're missing anything."

Staring wide eyed at the box, he slowly sunk into his chair, dejected from the rejection.

Fornel knew that they had to be back in MTAC soon, so he stated, "I've been here all morning and you haven't once offered to feed me. How about lunch?"

Gibbs shrugged, indifferent to the request.

"I could eat," McGee chimed in. "I've been wanting to take Tony out all morning but all he wanted to do was come in here."

"There's a first time for everything," Gibbs deadpanned. "Chinese?"

Tony felt his stomach and frowned, "I don't think I can do Chinese today."

"McGee, you and Abby pick up some burgers."

"On it."

Fornel watched Anthony DiNozzo as he thumbed through the files. He actually felt sorry for the man. Gibbs held a special spot in his heart for this particular agent, and Fornell understood why. He checked his watch. In less than an hour, Ziva was going to make contact with Deshane. They had to be available to intercept that call, else the Mossad officer was going to be on her own, and that was a very dangerous place to be. He wondered just how he was going to occupy the agent knowing his penchant for butting-in, but DiNotzo was Gibbs' problem and by the looks of his counterpart, he didn't seem too worried.

*************************************8

The food arrived about 30 minutes later. Abby gave Tony a big hug, welcoming him, "I knew you'd be back," she said, smiling at him.

The waif of the burgers as McGee walked past him titillated his senses, and he suddenly realized just how ravished he was. "I guess I am kinda hungry," he said to no one in particular.

Gibbs opened the bag and took out the first burger, and in an unprecedented move, he tossed it to his senior field agent instead of taking it for himself.

"Thanks, Boss," Tony said, appreciative of the gesture.

Gibbs took the second burger and let McGee, Fornell and Abby get their own.

Suddenly, Tony had a thought: What if they tried to drug him again? "Wait a minute!" he said to everyone holding a burger. Turning to better face the one who purchased the meal, he narrowed his eyes at McGee and said, "I don't think I trust you."

"What?" Tim said, utterly confused.

"You just might try and drug me again."

"Again? I've never drugged you in the first place."

"There's a first time for everything."

"Tony, why would I do that? I'm the one who brought you here!"

Ignoring the argument, he grabbed McGee's burger and thrust the one he held in its place. "That's better. Go ahead, McPharmacist, eat it."

"Fine," Tim said. Annoyed at the accusation, he proceeded to unwrap it.

"Wait!" Tony said, narrowing his eyes, "you'd think I would be suspicious and you'd know that I'd want to switch, but it's not your burger I should have taken, it's Gibbs'. You would never try to drug Gibbs!" and he only slightly more gently took Gibbs' burger and replaced it with the one he had just taken from McGee. "Yeah, that's what happened."

Abby and Fornel intently watched the exchange of burgers, wondering if either one of theirs was going to be next.

Smiling smugly, he unwrapped that burger and was almost ready to take a bite when he stopped. "Wait a minute. You'd think that I'd think that you'd drug my burger and want yours, which meant you had really drugged Gibbs' burger." He eyed Fornel and Abby, but concluded they wouldn't be in on such a barbaric scheme. "Which means, the one burger you wouldn't have drugged is the first one I had!" He grabbed his original burger back from McGee and thrust Gibbs' burger in its place. Satisfied with his logic, he took a bite. Staring at McGee, he tapped his temple and said, "I'm still smarter than you, McSneaky. No matter how you slice it, you can't pull one over on me." He swallowed and took another bite.

And then it hit him.

He took two steps closer to his desk, but had to reach out and steady himself on the filing cabinet. He looked back at McGee, his eyes confused.

"You may be smarter than me, Tony, but you're not smarter than Gibbs."

The last thing he saw was the loopsided grin of his boss as he slid down the cabinet.

Fornel and Abby caught him and leaned his whoozy body against his desk.

"What'd ya do to him?" Fornell asked, disturbed, yet oddly entertained.

"I did what I had to. Take him down to Autopsy, and sooth Ducky over for me."

"Me?" Fornell countered. "What can I say to your medical examiner?"

"You'll think of something."

"But I need to be in MTAC with you."

"Right now, I need McGee more than you. Go on."

Fornell wrapped one of Tony's arms around his shoulders and hoisted the much taller and heavier agent as best he could. "I take it he's not going to be happy when he wakes up and realizes that he's been drugged again."

"You are correct, Sir. This should be the last time, and, hopefully, by the time he wakes up, his world will be significantly better. C'mon, let's get him down to autopsy."

Abby wrapped his other arm around her slim shoulders and together they half carried, half dragged the agent towards the elevator. "Hey, Tony?" Abby said, trying to take his mind off everything. "Pretty smart of Gibbs, don't you think?"

"Hyy pissed had you…"

"It's better this way. You get to sleep and when you wake up, everything will be okay."

He was beginning to lose his fight with consciousness, but worse than that, he was getting increasingly difficult to carry. Fornell pushed him up against the wall in the elevator and then Abby leaned against him to keep him from falling. She tapped his face and said, "Stay awake just a few more minutes. At least until we get you to a bed."

"I wonder what Dr. Mallard is going to say when he sees him."

Abby smiled, always intrigued by a good sparing match.

The elevator dinged on the ground floor and together they helped their colleague through the sliding doors and towards an autopsy table, all under the surprised yet watchful eye of the medical examiner.

"I don't suppose he's just overly fatigued?"

Abby and Fornell looked at each other as they wrestled their patient onto a table. After they awkwardly laid him back on the cold metal, Fornell wasted no time in leaving. "Sorry, Doc, gotta run."

Ducky stared intently at the Goth of NCIS, never able to stay angry at her for very long. She gave in and said, "I'm sorry, Ducky, but Gibbs couldn't have him interfering when they're so close to closing the case on the Spence brothers."

Dr. Mallard was familiar with the plan involving Ziva ."Yes, I'm aware that the timing of this particular sting is particularly important." If Gibbs doesn't intercept the phone call that Deshane is going to make, Ziva's goose is cooked, as the Israeli is fond of saying. Although he wasn't completely convinced of the necessity of drugging the young agent, he wasn't entirely against it either. He was keenly aware of the impact this case was having on him since that fateful night in MTAC. It was probably best to keep him as far away from the action as possible.

Abby stared, forlornly, at her friend.

"Well, at least this body is alive and well." Ducky leaned down and spoke to an unconscious Tony, "You won't mind if I check your vitals, will you? I can, at least, do that for you."

Abby waited until he reported that his heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing were all within normal ranges for someone in his condition before she asked, "Is it okay if I leave him in your capable hands, Ducky?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Always with me… never with Gibbs."

Ducky smiled and patted her hand, "He will be fine with me. When Mr. Palmer returns, we'll make him very comfortable."

***********************************8

Fornel was granted entrance to MTAC just as Ziva was engaging Deshane Spence. The satellite captured the same images that the agent across the street was getting on his digital camera. The Spence brother definitely seemed interested in the Israeli beauty, and without too much effort on her part, she had him publicly displaying his affection towards her at the outdoor beachfront bar. She led him around like a nose-ringed ox, making sure his best side was facing the camera, and ensuring there would be no question as to his intentions.

"McGee? You got 'em?"

McGee clicked away at the console, "Yeah, I got them."

"Have you sent the message?"

"Almost…" he clicked some more keys, effectively sending images of Deshane Spence and NCIS liaison Ziva David to T'von Rivas-Gonzalez, the head of the Jamaican Drug Cartel. "Done! He should be receiving the images now."

"Good. Get Ziva out of there."

McGee punched the message to her phone and they watched her read it. Without missing a beat, she handed her ogly-eyed man a piece of paper, presumably with the name of her hotel, and she slipped away to an awaiting car, ready to drop her off at the airport for a priority flight home.

Deshane leaned back, smug in the knowledge that he had landed one of the prettier ladies at the bar, if not the prettiest, and at such an early hour, too. He still had it, he mused. Of course, it didn't hurt to have a wad of dough in your pocket that could be flashed at the most opportune time, nor did it hurt to be able to order a bottle of Bollinger Blanc de Noirs Vieilles Vignes Francaises 1997 with a click of his fingers. He did enjoy the high life, and later tonight, he was going to enjoy the exotic looking Middle Easterner.

However, right now, he had to wait for their Miami supplier so they could discuss the terms of the next shipment. Business always seemed to get in the way of pleasure, which is something T'von Rivas never quite figured out. He never knew how to have fun. Not him, though, not Deshane Calvert Spence; he not only knew how to have fun, but he made sure he had fun every day. Life was good.

"Boss. I'm jamming all signals from T'von Rivas' compound. He can still send text messages, but for some reason, he's being persistent trying to call Deshane Spence instead."

"Keep jamming them, McGee."

McGee smiled when the drug kingpin gave up and sent a text message. Deshane heard the familiar ring tone of a text arriving to his cell and he casually opened it up, pleased it was from the top man himself. Seconds later he wasn't smiling. His expression pleased Gibbs.

"McGee—"

"He keeps trying to call out but I'm blocking reception, and all text messages too. Deshane Spence thinks Rivas is not answering, but I'm scrambling the signal."

"Keep it up."

It took quite a bit of concentration on McGee's part as he was following three screens, and the delay was at least five seconds, but he was blocking and jamming signals faster than the two could punch buttons. He couldn't let Deshane Spence and T'von Rivas talk to each other. As far as Rivas was concerned, his top guy was canoodling with a federal agent and not returning his text messages, and as far as Deshane Spence was concerned, Rivas had it all wrong, but there was no way of communicating that to him. The third party, Derrick Spence was learning of his brother's indiscretions as the grapevine in a drug cartel was as good (if not better) than the grapevine in a legit business. McGee had to thread the needle and only let the call from Derrick reach Deshane. It was going to be tight.

***************************8

Palmer was surprised to see Tony passed out on the cold metal slab usually reserved for a dead body. Unthinking, he quipped, "They drug him again?"

"Yes, Mr. Palmer, they drugged him again."

"I bet he's gonna be mad when he wakes up."

"I suspect he'll cool down quickly when they inform him that the Spence brothers are no longer a threat."

Palmer never knew of the plan to eliminate them, which was just as well, because he never could follow their schemes nearly as well as his mentor. Jimmy liked to solve crimes using objects that couldn't move, specifically, bodies, and start at the beginning and work his way through the evidence making discoveries along the way. The minute the evidence held a functional brain, or more importantly, the ability to shoot, all intelligent thoughts and reasoning fled from his head, not a very good trait to have if you're a federal agent carrying a gun, but not necessary to possess if you're a medical examiner in training. Which is why he found himself staring at the federal agent lying on his autopsy table.

"Something bothering you, Mr. Palmer?"

"Just that I can't believe Tony lived through what he lived through and isn't a complete mental case."

Ducky joined him staring down at the handsome agent. "If I may offer some comfort, not every child of abuse finds his way to a bottle or pills or suicide. There are some who have learned skills to become productive members of society, but that's not to say that feelings aren't lying dormant waiting to be resurrected. Tony's trigger was the threat his father mentioned."

"But Tony's life is threatened every time he goes into the field. Why would this threat be different?"

"Because it came from a credible source. He knew firsthand what the Spence family was capable of and childhood memories are among the most powerful."

"What can we do for him?"

"Be there when he needs it. For starters, he's not going to believe the family is dead, but that is Gibbs' problem. Our problem is to calm him when he wakes from his latest encounter with percicethomide. If I know my Anthony, we may have to pull out the restraints."

Palmer's face went from pink to ashen at the prospect of dealing with an angry DiNozzo. The man literally scared him at times.

Ducky walked away, concealing the smile on his face. Sometimes, he just liked to see his protégé skirm.

*************************************8

Fornel leaned back in the leather seat, "Here's where it gets good."

Gibbs rubbed his upper lip at the caper, reserving judgment until later. They weren't disabling the drug cartel, but they were having an impact on its operation.

"Maybe we should forget about trying to shut them down and concentrate on making them implode from within. I could get used to these quick little plans that produce immediate results."

"It's not over yet," Gibbs warned. "A lot can go wrong still."

"Not from where I'm sitting. In a few minutes, Derrick Spence will be in Miami with his brother, trying desperately to figure out who framed him. An hour from now, T'von Rivas-Gonzalez will be in Miami wanting to see for himself the damage the brothers have done to his empire. If he responds the way he usually does, and I see no reason why he wouldn't, he'll have one of his henchmen eliminate both Derrick and Deshane. Within one 24 hour period, the number 2 and number 3 men in Rivas' drug cartel will be gone."

"And two more will take their place."

"Perhaps, but from Rivas' point of view, there's been doubt cast on everyone in his organization. When he goes through the normal thought process of deciding who he can trust and who he can't, he just may promote one of our undercover agents, furthering the demise of his little empire. This is a real coupe for the good guys, Jethro, and I can't wait for my director to see what we did."

Gibbs lulled his head towards Fornell.

"Of course, I'll leave out anything and everything related to Agent DiNotzo."

Gibbs nodded his head, glad that he was able to make his point without straining himself.

"How're you going to tell him that the Spence brothers have been eliminated?"

Gibbs rubbed his upper lip again. Tony wouldn't believe him, of that he was assured. But the question would have to wait to be answered until after he'd spoken with Ducky. He'd know the best way to break the news.

***********************************************8

Tony opened his eyes, recognizing the darkened room. "Damnit," he whispered to no one in particular, "not again." Twisting his head, he saw the figure sitting in the chair, beer bottle dangling from his fingers. He straightened his stiffened body to its tallest and stretched his back, already aching from yet another night on his boss' sofa. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"It was easy. And I needed you out of the way."

"Did you ever think to just ask?"

Gibbs tilted his head at the absurd suggestion.

"Okay, so I don't easily back off, but drugging me isn't the answer. I feel like crap."

"Well, you look like crap, DiNozzo. Are you hungry?"

The earlier events flitted across his brain and he shook his head, "I may never eat anything you give me again."

Gibbs smiled, and watched his agent wake up. Tony stretched and yawned, and rubbed his face, and scratched his head.

He spied the bottle of pain killers, left over from his earlier bout with a headache, and poured out four tablets. He threw them into his mouth and then reached over and took Gibbs' beer. With a large gulp, he downed the pills, not bothering to return the bottle. "You have any idea what this shit is doing to me?"

"Ducky assures me you're okay." Gibbs very much liked this sort of dialogue. It was painless and didn't require much effort. Plus, he really liked it when his senior field agent was around. But he suspected his reasons for liking it right now had more to do with the news he had to share than the conversation.

"What time is it?"

"After nine."

Tony shook his head, another day completely gone, with no recollection of any part of it. He looked around for his shoes and found them, neatly laid at the base of the couch. He flicked his boss a furtive glance before inching down the sofa towards them. When he got no resistance, he scowled, "Aren't you going to try and stop me?"

"Why?"

"Because every other time I've wanted to leave, you've tried to stop me."

Gibbs shrugged, "Not this time."

Tony pulled on his shoes quickly in case his boss changed his mind. He looked around for his jacket and found it on the coat rack in the small foyer. "Why are you letting me go so easily?"

"No reason to keep you."

He scratched his head again, forcing his brain to think, something that was still a little fuzzy for him to do. If there was no reason to keep him around, then that meant something had changed. "What'd you do?"

Gibbs paused, choosing his words carefully. "You may want to sit down."

"Am I going to like whatever it is you did?"

Gibbs ticked his head towards the sofa and waited for him to comply. Reluctantly, Tony made his way back to the uncomfortable, yet familiar, sofa.

"We got the Spence brothers."

"What?"

"They won't be bothering you ever again."

Tony narrowed his eyes at the words. He wasn't sure what they meant. "What'd you do?"

"We took care of them."

"How?"

"In conjunction with the FBI, we ran a sting."

Tony looked at his watch. "You didn't have enough time to run an operation."

"Fornell already had people on the inside. All we did was give the impression that the Spence brothers couldn't be trusted."

"That's what Ziva was used for?"

"Yeah."

"She okay?"

"She's fine."

"Where are they now?"

Gibbs lifted his shoulders. "If I had to guess, knowing what I know about drug cartels, I'd say they were somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic."

Tony searched his brain for answers. There were so many questions that he had, but the one that kept repeating itself was, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"What about Rashel Spence?"

"She's still in Jaimaca taking care of her mother. Without her brothers, she isn't a threat anymore."

Tony leaned back, not sure how he was feeling. Could it all be true? "My father?"

"He's fine."

He wanted to believe it, but there had been so many years of waking up every day and wondering.

The front door opened and they heard a soft voice yell, "Gibbs?"

"In here."

Ziva and McGee walked around the corner and stood a moment. "Hello, Tony," McGee said, obviously proud of the role he played taking out his friend's nemesis.

Tony acknowledged the computer geek by saying, "I may never trust you again either."

"It wasn't my idea, but sometime we should talk about your reasoning skills. You almost had it right."

Ziva added, "You look rested."

"The last time I saw you, you drugged me."

"I am sorry, but I had orders. You do not seem any worse for it."

"Two times. You drugged me twice!"

Changing the subject, she held out a bag, "I brought you something."

Not quite ready to let go of the accusations, but sensing it was fruitless to pursue, he took the plastic bag and looked inside. His expression went from annoyance to surprise. "Are these what I think they are?"

"Yes, they are your Simon Nguyen classic horror movie collection?"

Tony pulled one out and recognized it immediately. He didn't know what to say; thank you seemed so understated.

She smiled, disarmingly, and whispered, "Like I said, I am sorry that I drugged you. To make up for it, I also bought you the final movie in the collection, Fright Night."

He softened his gaze and allowed a smile, "Thanks. I'm not quite sure it makes up for drugging me twice, but it's a start."

"Hello?" a voice could be heard from the foyer.

"In here."

Ducky, Palmer and Abby walked into the living room.

"Hey, Tony," Abby said, genuinely glad to see him. Sitting down next to him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. "I've missed you."

"Hey," he replied, wondering why people were showing up at Gibbs' place.

Ducky said, "In case you were wondering, the effects of the drugs are temporary and will be completely out of your system within 48 hours."

"That is if no one slips any more to me," he smirked, looking at his boss.

Palmer stepped forward and extended his hand, "I have something for you."

Hesitantly, Tony watched as the autopsy gremlin dropped a set of keys into his.

"I picked these up for you today. I figure you'll be needing them to get back into your apartment."

"Yeah… thanks, Jimmy."

Palmer smiled broadly for it was a rare moment when Anthony DiNozzo called him by his given name.

"Special Agent Gibbs?" a voice called from the foyer.

Abby said, "I didn't know you were having a party tonight, Gibbs."

"I'm not."

Director Vance came around the corner and was surprised to see so many people crowded into the small room. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No," Gibbs answered.

"Good. I wanted to come by and apologize."

"For accusing me of stealing fifty million dollars?" Tony said, ruefully.

"No. I make no apologies for that. It's my job to know my employees, and better me doing the digging than IA. No, I want to apologize for the judicial system failing to bring the Spence family to justice."

Tony sighed, never having really given justice much thought in this whole matter; instead, he'd spent all his time thinking about revenge. "It isn't the first time justice hasn't been served, and it suspect it won't be the last time."

"I have a request on my desk from a retired FBI Detective Helen Finley. She worked your case in Connecticut and would like to meet with you."

Tony pulled back, putting up his defenses. "What is this? For something that I would have just as soon be kept under wraps, it seems like the entire world knows about it."

Abby snuggled against him and said, "You touch a lot of people's lives Tony. There was a time when we thought you were gone."

"By the way," Vance added, "I never accepted your resignation."

"So when do we get our old Tony back? Our goffy, loveable, handsome agent back at the office?" Abby asked.

He couldn't help but smile at her and eventually he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and said, "I guess I'm back… on one condition."

She raised her brows.

"No more knocking me out!"

"Deal!"

The last of the visitors left shortly after ten, and Tony leaned back on the sofa, relaxed and content in a way he'd never felt. His host had never moved from his chair, no doubt waiting for the moment he had his house back.

Gibbs recognized the expression on his agent's face and asked, "What's on your mind, Tony?"

"Why didn't you let me do it?"

Gibbs knew the question was coming and he had a million reasons why he wanted to stop him from killing the Spence brothers, but none of the reasons would make much sense to him. "No sense in you ruining your life."

"Killing Deshane Spence would have fulfilled my life, not ruined it."

Gibbs remembered when he felt the same way. He remember that it was those exact thoughts that carried him to Mexico, and allowed him to study Pedro's habits, and made it possible to lay for hours in the hot sun in camouflaged gear waiting for Kelly and Shannon's killer to leave the cantina. But afterwards, what he felt was anything but fulfilled. "Deshane and Derrick are gone now, Tony. Taken down by their own people. That's pretty good revenge if you ask me."

"But I would have liked to have seen their faces…"

Gibbs understood that need all too well. But there's no satisfaction in taking a life; he knew that first hand. "Listen, your phone's battery is dead because your friend keeps calling."

"My friend? Who?"

"Does Chantel L'enfant ring any bells?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot about her."

"Maybe you should call her back."

Tony shrugged. For whatever reason, she didn't have the same appeal to him anymore. "Maybe." At that exact moment, he was feeling more relaxed than he'd ever remembered feeling. What he really wanted was to enjoy the feeling and make it last as long as he could. "You want another beer?"

"Yeah."

Tony grabbed two more beers from the refrigerator and returned to the living room. They sat in silence, each thinking about his respective journey in life. And in its own very strange way, each path, although not perfect, seemed to be working.

~Fini

**Thanks to everyone for making it through this story. Obviously it's not one of my better ones, but it was a dust bunny for several years (I even think it was one of the first stories I ever starting writing in this universe a long time ago). I almost didn't finish it but I told myself I wouldn't start another story until I finished one of my earlier ones. A few of you even caught plot holes which I commend you on. Thanks! ~Jasmine**


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